


Where Do The Wild Swans Go?

by AtomicSky



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by a Movie, Male-Female Friendship, Romance, but does not apply to either Regina or Emma, fervently anti-Hook, so I didn't tag it because I didn't think you'd care as much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-17 01:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5848231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtomicSky/pseuds/AtomicSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What started as a SwanQueen take on the 1986 movie 'Top Gun' ended up being... this.</p>
<p>For those unfamiliar with the film:</p>
<p>Lt. Emma ‘Swan’ Nolan is a Naval Aviator with a chip on her shoulder and a point to prove.<br/>Determined to wipe the smudge the death of her father during Operation Desert Storm made over her family name and battling her own demons, she and her co-pilot August ‘Pinocchio’ Booth find themselves at the Naval Fighter Weapons School aka Top Gun in Nevada, fighting intense competition for top marks to lead the graduation table.<br/>On the program’s payroll is astrophysicist Regina Mills, an ambitious civilian contractor with her own agenda…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stroke of luck or gift from God

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowermine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowermine/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Where Do the Wild Swans Go? - Cover Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854768) by [yellowermine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowermine/pseuds/yellowermine). 



> This is my humble offering for the last SQBB, I hope you enjoy it.  
> It comes with my blood, my sweat and tears. No, they are not optional.  
>  **Please, please go and check out Yellowermine's FABULOUS artwork and give her all the kudos.**
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to **Lola and Tiff** for organising this smorgasbord of SQ fic. You have managed to herd this bunch of ~~cats~~ writers and artists and I am guessing this was no small feat. Thank for your time, your patience and your encouragement. You and this event will be missed.
> 
> Thank you also to **ariestess, lextenou, exquisitliltart, spoonofevil and _you know who you are_ ** for the help / advice / chat / beta / sanity / checking if I was still alive. All were much appreciated.
> 
> I do not own any of these characters. If I did, they'd live happier lives than they do now.
> 
> I apologise in advance for any inaccuracies in:  
> \- my understanding of the laws of physics, mechanics and general military-related technology,  
> \- my depiction of the US Navy and its workings, codes and personnel,  
> \- Nevada geography
> 
> I apologise for the creative license I may have afforded myself in order to make this story ~~easier to write~~ more enjoyable. This includes but is not limited to:  
>  \- changing the original time period of the mid 80's to 2012 / 2013.  
> \- using a mixture of facts and fiction. I shall endeavor to point it out in individual A/Ns in the relevant chapters.  
> \- the fact that there are lesbians and everybody is cool with it. That is the basic premise. If I had had to deal with DADT and the homophobia in the Armed Forces, this ride would not have been as "light-hearted" as it is.
> 
> I apologise for the levels of bad language although I do believe this might actually be reflective of the environment and is, therefore, a requirement for good story-telling.
> 
> I apologise for any spelling mistakes and typos remaining if there are any. They are all mine.
> 
> I apologise for the cheesiness levels in parts. There were some classic lines in that movie that just could not be omitted. You are of course allowed to smile in a condescending fashion whenever you come across them.
> 
> I apologise for the length of this author's note. It's my first one. I'm nervous and I ramble. I better finish my speech and go though... That orchestra is starting to play REALLY loud...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too happy with this first scene but I promise it gets better!

_"L'avenir a plusieurs noms._  
_Pour les faibles, il se nomme l'impossible;_  
_pour les timides, il se nomme l'inconnu;_  
_pour les penseurs et pour les vaillants, il se nomme l'idéal."_

_"The future has several names._  
_For the weak, it is impossible;_  
_for the fainthearted, it is unknown;_  
_but for the valiant, it is ideal."_  


_Victor Hugo_

 

* * *

 

The air was oppressive and the humidity almost unbearable when Commander Tom "Wookiee" Caulfield walked into the Combat Direction Center of his aircraft carrier. Shading his eyes from the glare coming from the floor-to-ceiling tinted window overlooking the flight deck, he surveyed the entire room.

They had deployed to the Persian Gulf two months ago, and things had been unusually quiet for the last couple of weeks. He inhaled slowly, taking in the thick tension permeating the atmosphere and the hushed activity of the fully crewed floor.

Heading directly for the radar wall filling the length of the operations room, he greeted the radio operator in front of him. “Cricket. What’ve we got? Apart from a fucking busted air con. Again.” 

Eyes fixed on the blipping dot on his monitor Cricket, a young man in his twenties with a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead picked up his mike key. “Bounty Hunter, this is Cricket. We have an unknown contact. Inbound Mustang.”

Wookiee lifted the navy USS Ronald Reagan cap from his forehead in a vain attempt to relieve some of the sweltering heat. “Are we expecting any visitors today? Who have we got up there?”

Finally turning away from his screen, Cricket acknowledged his superior. “Sunrise, Chicago, Swan and Pinocchio, Sir. Negative, no visitors on the schedule.”

“Great, Swan and Pinocchio. I can already smell the brimstone,” Wookiee said dejectedly, wiping his brow and bald head with the back of his hand and pulling his cap back down. Fan-fucking-tastic.

 

\--------------------

 

Lt Emma ‘Swan’ Nolan, had been flying her Boeing F/A-18F Super Hornet for the best part of the last three years. Her air squadron, the VFA-2 ‘Bounty Hunters', was currently attached to the aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan and things had been pretty dull so far for her despite their latest deployment in one of the globe's hottest zone. Sure, there was plenty of entertainment to be had below deck outside of shift hours but the daily patrols she had taken part in had been complete non-events. Addressing her Radar Intercept Officer behind her, the prospect of some excitement seeped through her voice. 

“Alright Pinocchio, talk to me. Where’s our tourist?”

“I have him on radar. 900 knots closure,” Lt Junior Grade August ‘Pinocchio’ Booth replied. “Sunrise, Chicago, you got him?”

“Yeah, we’ve got him too.”

“Alright, let’s get a visual ID and see what he wants.” Emma banked left sharply, Sunrise's jet on her tail.

“Closing fast. Mustang this is Bounty Hunter 117, we have the bogey at 15 miles.”

According to their radar readings, the unidentified plane was on his own and coming right at them. 

“Alright Sunrise, I’m gonna go head to head with him.” Emma’s cool demeanor did not ease the tension in Sunrise’s reply.

“Take it easy Swan, I don’t like this shit. I’m gonna break high and right, see if he’s really alone.”

Soon they had established visual contact, and not one but two jets flew by Swan's Super Hornet. August whipped his head around, following them eagerly. "Shit, two MiG-34s! I've never seen any that close before!"

Emma chuckled internally. August could be such a child sometimes. A child on Christmas morning to be precise. However, this complicated things. They were now heading straight for the Ronald Reagan; they were about 250 miles out. It was starting to stink.

“Sunrise, you go after MiG One, I’ll take MiG Two,” the female pilot instructed, diving right to get behind her target and getting a missile lock on them within half a minute. The name of the game was to freak the opponent out and force them to retreat before any shots were fired out. Shooting was a completely different ballgame… A few seconds later, MiG Two disappeared into the cloud cover, giving up.

“Mustang, this is Swan. MiG Two is going home.”

Sunrise, on the other hand, wasn't faring quite as well. They were now only 180 miles away from the aircraft carrier, and the remaining MiG was on his six, the missile lock beeping sound echoing in his helmet. Sunrise had lost him in the sun and those brief seconds had been enough for the MiG to reposition itself right behind him.

"Fuck, he's engaging me! Mustang! This guy is all over me, do I have permission to fire?" Sunrise's voice was shaking uncontrollably. At Wookiee's firm order to not fire until fired upon, the young man called out at his wingman frantically. "Swan, get down here, that asshole is sticking to me like a fly on shit!"

"Sunrise, we're on our way. He's in a perfect position to fire. He would have done it by now if that's what he wanted. He's just trying to piss us off," Emma calmly explained.

“I don’t give a fuck, Swan!” Sunrise shouted. “Get this fucker off me!”

"Easy, Sunrise. Bring him back, hard right. Help me engage. I can't shoot this bastard. Let's see if we can have a little fun with him, though."

Placing herself behind but above the MiG, Emma flipped her plane upside down, August's sarcastic comment of "This is your idea of fun?" washing over her as she concentrated on her task. She pulled up to the other jet's level and mirroring its speed, she lowered her Super Hornet canopy to canopy with the remaining MiG. The shadow cast upon it was enough for its pilot to lift its head, just in time for him to see Emma give him a little sarcastic wave. August pulled out his camera and snapped a couple of pictures, whooping. Within seconds, the second MiG was pushing negative Gs, hard down and away and they could all breathe a sigh of relief.

“Great shot, I should have been a photographer, do you know that? Look at him, he’s running for it!” August laughed in delight, adrenaline rushing through his body. “Anyway! Swan, we’re getting low on fuel, time to go.”

"Alright. Sunrise, this is Swan. Your tail is clear, MiG One has bugged out. Enough fun for one day and we're getting hungry, so we're heading for the barn. See you on deck!"

As they made their way back to the aircraft carrier, the conversation – or lack thereof – from the other plane was beginning to worry Emma. The weather had taken a turn for the worst, and a storm was now raging over the Ronald Reagan and its surroundings, lowering visibility to such an extent that it was difficult to see the flight deck. However, this was not what was worrying Emma the most. Chicago seemed to be calling for his pilot to get a grip, his own fuel situation seemed dire but Sunrise was unresponsive, his heavy breathing the only sound emanating from his mic.

As the desperation in Chicago’s tone rose, Emma saw no alternative but to go back.

"You're kidding, Swan! We can't go back," her RIO protested, but Emma's mind was made up. She was within sight of the carrier, ready to land. Instead, she pulled up and picked up speed again, retracing her path back to where she had come from. She could deal with the admonishments and ignored orders to land immediately later. She just couldn't leave them there.

“Sunrise is in trouble, we’ve got to go.”

As she finally pulled level with Sunrise, Chicago called out to her. “That MiG really screwed him up, Swan. I don't think he can make it back.”

Taking a deep breath and forcing her voice to stay low and steady, Emma addressed the other pilot.

“You're okay, Sunrise. Just stay on my wing. I'll take you all the way in. Just stay with me.”

The Super Hornet was anything but steady as Sunrise struggled to remain on Emma's wing. The jet was oscillating dangerously, and the pilot just could not regain his breath or focus his vision on the fast approaching flight deck.

"Easy, Sunrise. Just a walk in the park, buddy." 

Emma was anything but the cool, confident person she was trying to convince Sunrise she was. The jet was shaking too much, the approach angle was off, and he was pitching too low too soon. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and she shouted her instructions at him, praying it would jilt the man enough for him to regain some control. It was probably the most excruciating ten seconds of her pilot's life but Sunrise made it safely, wheels touching the tarmac and the tailhook underneath the plane thankfully snagging on the arresting wire.

 

\--------------------

 

A tentative knock sounded inside Commander Tom Caulfield's office, stirring him from his thoughts. It had been a close call and an administrative nightmare of epic proportions was already shaping up right in front of him. Lifting his cap and pressing the heel of his hands over his eyeballs in a fruitless effort to relieve some of the tension he straightened in his seat, ready to welcome his visitor. At his instruction to come in, the door in front of him opened and a pale and haggard looking Sunrise entered the room, staring right ahead.

“Lt Yaoguai, what is it? You should be in sick bay. What are you doing?”

Still staring straight ahead as if dazed, Philip walked over to the skipper’s desk, his jaw set.

“Thinking of my wife Aurora and kid, Sir. I almost orphaned him and I haven’t even met him yet. I don’t know what happened up there but I was so scared…” his voice broke.

“We’ve seen this before…” Wookiee dismissed the pilot’s words with a wave of his hand, but Sunrise interrupted him.

“No Sir, not.. Not like this. I lost the edge. I’m really sorry Sir.” Unpinning the gold wings from his chest, Philip dropped them to the Commander’s desk with a loud clang. Looking at his CO for the first time during this encounter, he gave him a final salute, turned around and walked out of the office, closing the door firmly behind him.

Wookiee closed his eyes in defeat and dropped his head on his arms resting on top of his desk, exhaling deeply. This was not part of the plan and whilst he felt for his pilot, he now faced a serious headache and a decision he was not looking forward to. Yet he saw little alternative, given the time constraints he had to work with. Sunrise had been spooked by today's events and he was under little illusion that his mind could be changed in time, if at all. He was his best pilot and now the past tense took on a different meaning indeed.

With regret and renewed determination, he yelled “Swan, Pinocchio! Get in here!”

A few seconds later, both pilot and RIO were standing at attention in the doorway, waiting for what they expected to be the ass-chewing of the century.

“Sir.”

"Swan, Pinocchio… As usual, you are a massive pain in my fucking ass. What the fuck were you thinking up there, Swan?" an angry Wookiee growled.

Emma stared straight ahead, bracing herself for what was to come. That she had issues with following the rules and authority in general was nothing new, despite her early childhood Navy upbringing. She however always retained the ability to know when it was best just to shut up and take it like a woman. If there was ever an appropriate time, this was it…

“You did an incredibly brave thing.”

Emma perked up internally at this statement. Maybe this would not be as bad as expected… She refrained from turning her head to look at August, who was standing completely wooden beside her.

“An incredibly brave… and absolutely moronic thing! What you should have done was land you plane, Lieutenant! You don’t own that plane any more than I do. The taxpayers do. Your ego is writing cheques your body can’t cash. I should ream you for your actions but I unfortunately know better because it just doesn’t work with you, does it Savior?”

Emma swallowed but remained still and at attention. Her CO was just getting warmed up and she knew it. She, however, could not help but catch the gleam of golden wings on the desk in front of her and wonder what the Hell had gone down before she and August walked into the CO's office. They had crossed Sunrise's path on the way there and he looked like a defeated and lost man.

"If only you could fucking follow orders! You've been busted, you've lost your qualifications as section leader three times! Put in hack twice. With a history of high-speed passes over five air control towers and one admiral's daughter!"

At this, Pinocchio turned his head slightly towards his pilot, muttering: “Which one? Kathryn Midas?” 

Emma shrugged slightly, not wanting to acknowledge the charge, yet she could not help but internally frown at it. Her encounter with Midas’ daughter had not been a “high-speed pass” by any stretch of the imagination… She had been quite thorough in fact and garnered nothing but praise from the recipient for her actions.

The skipper meanwhile was still on a roll and got up, getting into Emma’s face.

"Let's not bullshit, ‘Savior'. You think you're a fucking hero now, huh? Your family name isn't the best in the Navy. You need to be doing it better and cleaner than the other guy. So what is it with you? You're a Hell of a pilot. The problem is that you god damn well know it. Maybe too fucking good. So this is it, Swan. I now have to do something I never imagined I would. I have to send someone from this squadron to Fallon and that means giving you your dream shot. I'm sending you to compete against the best. You're good but they're the best. Maybe they'll knock some fucking sense into you. Maybe they'll take some shine off the eagle on your chest, that eagle you're so proud of because God knows I've tried and failed. Maybe over there they'll manage to teach you about discipline and teamwork and how it is fucking essential to being a great pilot."

“Sir?” 

Emma snapped out of the trance-like state Caulfield's tirade had induced. She had heard the arguments before and was under no illusion that she would hear them again. Her instincts, her abilities, her hunger for revenge over what life had thrown at her pushed her to desire nothing more than to rise above her peers but she knew it came with its drawbacks and she was more than aware of how she was perceived by her colleagues and superiors. If only she could bring herself to give a shit. What mattered was that she did her job and that she did it well. If popularity was not part of the deal, she could not give a flying fuck.

“I can’t believe I am giving this to you on a silver platter instead of a fucking warning. Both of you pack your bags and get off my ship. You two clowns are going to Top Gun.”

The shock was evident on her face and although she did not think Wookiee was a man to pull a prank like this on his crew, she needed to make sure she had heard him right.

“What about Sunrise, Sir? I thought he was going?” Emma could not help but ask despite the fact that the only words ringing in her head were “Top Gun” and she found it difficult to concentrate on anything else. 

Wookiee sat back down behind his desk, once again putting some distance between him and his men.

"Was. WAS going to Top Gun. Now, you are. Sunrise lost it. He knows it. I know it. You were up there Swan, you know it too. Something about a wife and kid. Sunrise and Chicago were number one. You idiots were number two. Sunrise crashed out and turned his wings, you're number one and that's all there is to it. It may just do you good, who knows. I know it'll do me good, having you out of my sight for eight weeks. Now get the fuck out, you can tell me about the MiG another time. That's all."

Having been dismissed and still shocked by both Sunrise’s quitting and the news Wookiee had sprung on them, Emma and August snapped off a salute and did an about face before reaching for the door handle.

“Swan?” the skipper called back.

“Yes Sir?”

“Good luck” Caulfield softened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Facts** : Strike Fighter Squadron 2 (VFA-2) also known as the "Bounty Hunters" is a real United States Navy F/A-18F Super Hornet strike fighter squadron based at Naval Air Station Lemoore, California. The Bounty Hunters are attached to Carrier Air Wing 2 (CVW-2) that deploy aboard the Ronald Reagan. 
> 
> **Fiction** : MiG-34s don't exist.


	2. It's a beautiful day

_"An Tagen wie diese wünscht man sich Unendlichkeit_  
_An Tagen wie diese haben wir noch ewig Zeit_  
_In dieser Nacht der Nächte, die uns so viel verspricht_  
_Erleben wir das Beste, kein Ende ist in Sicht"_

  
_"On days like these, we wish for eternity_  
_On days like these, we have an endless amount of time_  
_In this night of nights that promises us so much_  
_We experience the best, no end is in sight."_

_Die Toten Hosen – Tage wie diese_

 

* * *

 

Emma and August had been friends since childhood, ever since being sat beside each other on the benches of the Miramar Ranch elementary school. 

August was a shy and introverted child and made easy picking for some of the older and bigger Navy brats. He had been adopted as a toddler by a then middle-aged couple and his father Marco was a mechanic on the Naval Aviation base. Both these facts simply delighted some of the more obnoxious daughters and sons of the higher ranking Navy officers and August faced a daily barrage of disparaging comments about the size of his nose, his clothes or his family's financials. Anything from “How much did you cost? I bet your parents could have bought a nicer car than the heap of junk they drive if they hadn’t adopted you!” to “You know they’re not your real parents, right? They can’t love you like their own child”…

Emma had never been one to stand idle in the face of injustice and let a bully win, even at the tender age of five. She had punched that little monkey-faced creep Walsh right in the face for that one. He had pointed and sniggered long enough. This had not garnered her any favors with August at first as he claimed it was even "worse to be defended by a _girl_." Her actions had also earned her a family trip to the principal's office and a stern talking to from her father - even if the man could not keep the pride out of neither his tone nor his eyes and Emma was not oblivious to it - and eventually a friendship to last a lifetime. As for Walsh, his nose would forever look slightly slanted and he probably thanked whichever God he believed in that the tooth he had spat out was a baby one.

From then on, August and Emma were inseparable.

When Marco’s wife died of cancer, a seven-year-old Emma took August to her favourite spot on the side of the base's runway and they watched the planes take off and land while she held his hand in comfort. She told him of how they would become pilots like her dad was when they grew up so that they could reach the sky and visit his mother whenever they wanted.

When Emma’s father David unexpectedly died a couple of years later, August took her to the same spot, reminded her of her promise and they swore that they would do it together, no matter what.

When both Marco and Emma’s mother Mary Margaret struggled with their respective losses and grief, Emma and August sought comfort in each other’s company, united by a common pain that so very few could understand and even fewer had experienced at their age. They needed no-one but each other and had sealed their bond by pricking their index fingers and holding hands, mixing their blood together. Sister and brother forever. They both knew family had nothing to do with blood but thought it could not do any harm anyway.

When it became apparent that August would lack the stamina and strength to pass the Candidate Fitness Assessment for the US Naval Academy, Emma took him under her wing and designed a gruelling programme for him, Iron man style because “there was no fucking way” she was “doing this on her own.”

When aged sixteen, August decided that they should trade in the bicycles Emma had him training on for months and months for motorbikes they started saving money together. Both worked odd jobs helping Marco renovate vintage Chevys in his workshop and waitressing at Granny’s, the base’s most popular diner “because nowhere does it say that diner jobs are just for girls and only boys were allowed to work in a garage.” 

Granny’s is where they both met Ruby, becoming fast friend with the owner’s granddaughter and crushing on her at the same time. This was a good-natured fight that August would eventually win, the lanky redhead and him becoming an item in high school and never parting from then on. Emma was not in the least discouraged by Ruby’s preference since “not everyone could be special and gay” and took it in her stride, happy in her newly discovered sexual identity.

They bought their third-hand motorbikes in the same garage across town under Marco's watchful and worried eye. Bikes were dangerous, and the risk of a serious accident was high but what could he or Mary Margaret say to two teenagers who had been Hell-bent on doing all that was possible to become fighter-jets pilots anyway? Adrenalin was their drug, and both parents reassured themselves and each other that even if their offspring had a sometimes unhealthy disregard for their own mortality, neither would do anything stupid enough to endanger the other’s life.

Over the years and with their financial situations improving, both Emma and August had upgraded their bikes several times and although this was a shared passion of theirs, their track record of ownership was very reflective of the difference in their personalities.

A true 90’s child and _Terminator_ fan, August was currently the proud owner of his third Harley Davidson, a black FLSTF Fat Boy complete with leather saddle bags. He cherished the look it gave him, the stereotypical lonesome all-American rider with a bad rep and a soft heart. The fact the Ruby was a fan of the bad boy look was purely coincidental.

Emma, on the other hand, had always been a sports bike aficionada, and there was little she enjoyed more than feeling the power of her canary yellow Ducati 1199 Panigale between her thighs. A beautiful and skilled lover, maybe...

When August had sneered at her “Yellow? Really? That’s a bold choice”, she has retorted that it was in memory of her father and that subject had been closed. Yellow was her father’s squadron’s color. She knew her bike’s high visibility made it an attention-getter on the road and probably painted her as an arrogant and pretentious person, but she just could not bring herself to give a damn. Plus, it was partially true. She was a confident woman and saw nothing wrong with showing it, not one to care or seek the approval of those frowning in the wake of her engine’s roar.

On a bright Saturday morning, just over a week after their last meeting with Wookiee, the two of them were racing along the Interstate 80 somewhere in Nevada, en route to their new home for the next eight weeks. Ray-Ban aviators covering her green eyes barely peeking over the handlebar, Emma turned her head back to check on August behind her. She had never been a fan of the biker’s smile which inevitably involved insects and other unsavoury Unidentified Flying Beings in between her teeth. As such - as well as for safety reasons – she had always opted for an integral helmet, a yellow one of course. It gave her the added bonus of cockily appraising people’s reactions when she removed it, freeing her blond mane and surprising many to see a woman riding such a machine.

Seeing his best friend turning around to see him and imagining her shit-eating grin at being in front, August pushed his bike harder, the sound of his engine a sweet music to his ears and pulled up to Emma’s level, grinning in turn. They no longer needed words to communicate and a shared look carried all the feelings and words they intended them to. They were barrelling towards a new stage of their lives together and they couldn’t wait. The world belonged to them and after all the chaos they had gone through, they felt they rightly deserved it. 

Emma gunned her bike, giving August an encouraging wave to follow and race together towards NAS Fallon. Despite their competitive natures, it never occurred to them to pit themselves against each other, academically, sportively or otherwise. Competition was them against the others, never between them and that was the only way it could possibly be.

 

\--------------------

 

Monday morning gave the pair their first opportunity to meet their classmates and opposition for the next eight weeks. They had taken the rest of the weekend to settle into the Bachelor Officer Quarters they had been assigned and explored their new home. It was a far cry from the cabins on the USS Ronald Reagan, and Emma had taken full advantage of the bathtub there after a vigorous workout at the gym.

Walking into their first class of the day – an introductory history lesson of sorts - Emma wrinkled her nose. She could smell the testosterone from the doorway, barely buried between the reek of what her peers quite clearly considered manly aftershaves. She always insisted August wore as little cologne as possible, the smell of it mixing with sweat in the cockpit made her want to hurl.

She quickly scanned the room and concluded that once again she was on her own. Despite the great strides made in terms of gender equality, the numbers still didn’t quite stack up and female fighter pilots were still few and far between. The blonde sighed. This situation was nothing new, and it would not be the last time she faced an all-male opposition. She had a suspicion though that her gender would not be the primary or only subject of conversation. As Wookiee had kindly reminded her, the name of Nolan was infamous in the Navy.

Spotting August sitting near the front of the orientation room, Emma plonked down on the seat to his right and sighed. She had not had time for breakfast, her alarm had let her down at the least opportune moment and she had rushed to class, barely having time to ensure her uniform and hair met Navy regulations.

August, head still in the notes he had laid out on the table in front of him, wordlessly handed her a bear claw and her eyes widened in surprise. She snatched it from his hand and gratefully moaned at the first bite. It was almost sickeningly sweet but it was good and would tide her over for a while. She leaned back in her seat almost in ecstasy and squeezed his forearm in an appreciative gesture, her mouth still too full to thank him verbally. August lifted his gaze towards her and snickered.

“Good morning Rob Zombie and welcome to the land of the living.” 

Emma frowned and attempted to swallow quickly, a retort at the ready. Her hand already raised to smack August’s shoulder, she was cut short by a commotion at the back of the room signalling the arrival of four men in blue flight suits and a subsequent general scrambling from the Naval Aviators to get to the nearest seats.

A tough-looking, confident dark-haired man strutted to the top of the room while the other three stood against the back wall. The scar running from the middle of his left cheek to the bottom of his dark brown eye added to his aura of authority.

Foregoing all niceties, he dropped the files he was carrying on the desk and turned around, facing the four rows of eager students.

“During the Korean War, the Navy kill ratio was twelve-to-one. In Vietnam, this ratio fell to three-to-one. Our pilots depended on missiles. They lost their dogfighting skills. Top Gun was created to teach ACM. Air Combat Manoeuvring... Dogfighting. By the end of the Vietnam War, we upped our kill ratio to thirteen to one.”

Making a point to stare at each of the sixteen faces in front of him, he continued: “I am Lieutenant Commander Joaquim Montoya, call sign 'Seahawk' and a flight instructor at Top Gun for the last ten years. Let me introduce you to Commander John McKellen, call sign 'Gandalf' and although this may be a source of merriment amongst you, I assure you that he has earned it and you may find yourselves in need of his wisdom sooner than later. He is in charge of this programme.”

A grey-haired man with sharp blue eyes pushed back from the back wall he was leaning against and made his way slowly through the middle aisle, weighing each word.

“Now you ladies and gentlemen are here because you’re the top 1% of all Naval Aviators. You’re the elite, the cream, the best of the best. My job and the job of the staff here at Top Gun is to make you better.”

Across the aisle from Emma, a dark-haired man with bushy eyebrows twirled his pen between his right-hand fingers, a smirk barely visible at the corner of his mouth. Emma took an instant dislike to him. She just couldn’t stand arrogant pricks. The faint scar of a piercing could be seen in his left ear. The guy had obviously worn at least one earring at some stage and Emma would have bet any amount of money that he was the kind of individual that would have worn guyliner and shaggy hair to cover up his already receding hairline had his profession of choice allowed it. Urgh.

“You will fly at least two combat missions a day, attend classes and evaluations. On each combat sequence, you're going to meet a different challenge. We live in uncertain times and the Unites States of America need to be able to trust that its Armed Forces are the best they can be. The potential for confrontation is higher than ever. Air carrier pilots are on the frontline, the first ones there, carrying remote strike or support missions. Air combat excellence is vital to most strategies and you being prepared is a key component of those strategies.”

Guyliner was now staring at Emma, obviously judging the competition and mistakenly not thinking much of it. Emma’s gaze lowered to his name tag. “Hook”. What kind of fucked-up call sign was that? What did he do to deserve that one? Win some fishing contest in the outback hole he came from? Or maybe the answer wasn't that PG-rated.

Beside him, a much better looking man, the tall dark and handsome kind – Emma may not be physically attracted to men but she could admire the aesthetics like anybody else - leaned towards him and whispered in his ear. Hook immediately sobered and reluctantly redirected his attention towards the speaker. “Huntsman”, if Emma’s vision was correct, smiled coldly at Emma and after giving him an acknowledging nod, Emma shifted in her seat and turned back towards Gandalf, who was still making his way towards the front of the room, ignoring August’s inquisitive glance and raised eyebrow.

“We are here to ensure that you are prepared. Training people for air combat, air combat itself is dangerous but being unprepared is even more so. Trouble is what you get when things don’t work out and you can’t do what you say you can, when you don’t even know what to do. We don’t make policy here, gentlemen. Elected officials, civilians do. We are here to implement it, we are the tip of the spear and the sharper, the better.”

Gesturing at his three colleagues at the back and the plaque they stood in front of, Gandalf continued.

“You may be wondering who is the best and that is something we’d like to know too.”

At this, the sixteen students who had all turned around to follow Gandalf finally allowed themselves their first good look at the competition. If Emma had seen a more obvious “my dick is bigger than yours” contest, she could not recall. In what she assumed was his default setting now, Hook was leering at her, an arrogant smirk on his face. Emma couldn’t wait to wipe it off for him. With the sole of her boot preferably.

“That’s why we have this plaque on the wall with the name of each top-ranking crew from each class. Think your name is going to be on it?”

Staring at each other for a second longer before both turning towards Gandalf once again, Emma and Hook replied affirmatively in unison. If Hook wanted a pissing contest, she’d give him one.

A few ooh's resounded, all heads turning to the duo at the front of the class.

Gandalf made his way back towards to the top of the room and zeroed in on Hook.

“That’s a pretty big claim to make given the company you are in…”

Somewhat chastised, Hook slid lower into his seat. Hunstman besides him glared at him with a disapproving glint in his eyes. So it was not just Emma who thought the guy was a douche.

“Yes, Sir.”

Gandalf turned then towards Emma. She was beating all kinds of records today… She was facing the prospect of being reamed already and she hadn’t even been in the place 48 hours. A new high for sure.

Gandalf’s piercing blue eyes stared Emma down but held a hint of amusement she had failed to notice when he was addressing Hook.

“I like that in a fighter pilot. It’s OK to be confident. Just keep in mind that confidence alone will not bring you success. You will need teamwork.”

Hmmm. He had obviously done his homework then and Emma’s cards were marked. Well shit.

Gandalf gathered his notes on the desk and walked out, followed by the rest of the instructors but not before a final parting shot. “This is about combat ladies and gentlemen. There are no points for second place. You are dismissed.”

“A plaque? A plaque? That’s what we get for winning this thing?” a tall grey-eyed man with a slight English accent wondered out loud.

“No, Hood. It’s not the plaque. The winner can get assigned as an instructor. You get to play-fight every day back here,” an already grey haired RIO going by the name of “Butch” replied with a friendly smile.

Emma leaned towards August and whispered to him. “I think we’ve got a fighting chance of having our names on that, what do you reckon?”

“Don’t count your ducklings before they’re hatched, Swan. Some of these guys are prime competition, I’ve done my research.”

Emma ran her hand over August’s head, ruffling his short hair. “My nerdy little informant, you may tell me all about it over a beer tonight. A beer which you are paying for by the way.”

Evading Emma’s hand with a groan, her friend protested. “Why am I paying? It’s your turn to fork out, Savior!”

Getting up and gathering her things, Emma slid her sunglasses into the collar of the white T-shirt peeking from her khaki dress shirt and cheekily grinned. “You are sorely mistaken, my friend. You never got a round in to celebrate our presence here. All due to your wonderful best friend presently speaking, may I humbly add. So the further two rounds are now on you for protesting.”

With that, Emma patted August on the shoulder and exited the room, a self-satisfied smile on her face and a grumbling RIO behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Fact** : Whilst Top Gun was still located in NAS Miramar near San Diego at the time of the movie, the transfer of NAS Miramar to the Marine Corps in 1996 was coupled with the incorporation of Top Gun into the Naval Strike and Air Warfare Center (NSAWC) at NAS Fallon, Nevada.


	3. Hang up the chick habit

_“If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man_  
_You win some, lose some, all the same to me,_  
_The pleasure is to play."_

_Motörhead - The Ace of Spades_

 

* * *

 

As promised, they had hit the Rabbit Hole, which seemed to be the place to be if you were looking for cold beer, uniform-chasers and cheesy as all Hell music. August, always a good sport had gotten the first Budweiser’s in.

As the pair settled at the bar observing the crowd, Emma could not help but think that a military bar, wherever it was in the world was no different from any other military bar. The music blared out of oversized loudspeakers, the ceiling was low, the lights harked back from the 80’s and were pulsating in sync with the beat of _Highway to Hell_.

“Alright then Pinocchio, hit me with what you've got.” Emma took a swig of her beer, the cold liquid providing some already much-needed relief from the sweltering heat inside.

Pointing towards the two men who had been sitting across the aisle from them earlier that day, August started. “You want to know who the best is? It’s that guy, Graham Humbert call sign 'Huntsman'. It’s the way he flies. He never lets it go, wears you down. He’ll hunt you down until you fuck up. He’s cold, calculated, heartless.”

August then pointed to the guyliner wannabe who had tried to rile her up. “Alice Cooper beside him is Killian Jones. Call sign 'Hook'. Greasy, slippery motherfucker. Apparently got his name for his predilection for the ladies of the night. I wouldn’t be too surprised if he had to pay for it either. They both fly VF-103.”

Emma choked on her beer and put her hand over her mouth not to spill. “VF-103?  The Jolly Rogers? That was my Dad’s squadron. Those guys are gonna love me,” she said sarcastically.

“Humbert won’t care. Hook will be a dick about it if he finds out for sure…”

Emma sighed. “OK, next?”

“Next, we have Robin Locksley, ‘Hood’. I don’t know too much about him. British. A bit of a non-entity if you ask me. Looks as plain as his flying is. His RIO is Neal ‘Butch’ Cassidy, the greying guy over there. Somebody wasn't feeling too inspired when they named him, by all accounts...”

Emma had always been curious and sometimes amazed at military call signs and what they meant to the people whom they had been given to. Some of them were downright funny, some downright nasty but rarely missed the mark. Nobody ever chose their call sign; it was always assigned to you by your “buddies”. It usually had something to do with either your name or something stupid you did. The trick was to ensure that whatever name was given to you was done so by a benevolent soul or else you dragged nicknames like 'Hook' or 'Bozo' for the rest of your career. The U.S. Navy's first fully qualified female fleet fighter pilot was called 'Revlon'... 

Emma and August, ever the plotting duo,  thankfully had much to do with each other’s call sign assignment.

Since the age of 14, Emma had had a swan tattooed on her left wrist. It was small enough not to contravene Navy regulations. Laden with personal meaning, it was the first her mother allowed her to get in a misguided effort to stave off her daughter’s defiant streak for a few precious months. Emma never considered her tattoos as signs of rebellion. Neither were they the unintentional consequence of a drunken night out with friends. Hers were the physical manifestations of the scars she bore in her soul and her heart. August knew this, having held her hand through the process both times and given the lack of anything juicy to base any kind of nickname on, they had settled on ‘Swan’. The fact that she couldn’t sing all that well may have been a significantly contributing factor.

As for August, he had started life as an awkward redheaded child and continued it as an awkward redheaded teenager. It took him time to “grow into his looks” and incidentally his current chestnut hair. Although his cerulean eyes were now his most striking feature, this had not always been the case. “ALF” and “Snuffaluffagus” were frequent taunts in the playground, one of the other reasons Emma delighted in punching that little monkey-face Walsh in the nose. It was actually her idea to call him 'Pinocchio'. At times, he exhibited even lower levels of maturity than she did. He was indeed a child who may never grow up and it was a way for him to exorcise his childhood demons without anyone being any the wiser, a desensitization of sorts. She made up some kind of bullshit about August being a pathological liar and that was that.

“How on Earth do you know all these guys, August?”

 “Gotta keep track on the competition. Speaking of which…”

  _The Hoos,_ as Emma would forever call them from now on, were making their way towards them, greeting August in the only manner Killian Jones knew how.

“Why Pinocchio, whose ass did you kiss to get here?”

“The list is short but distinguished, Hook. Unlike yours, I am sure. Still getting your monthly STD check-up? Can’t afford to have you scratching down there in the middle of an op, man.”

“Fuck off” was the best comeback Hook could come up with and August grinned in victory. Deciding it would be best for him to pick a different and visibly easier target, Hook raked his somewhat glassy eyes over Emma. “So who’s your pilot?” 

“This is Swan. Swan, Hook. Hood.”

Hood shook Emma’s hand while Hook re-opened the hostilities.

“The Savior, huh? Steering is more what I hear you do, Swan. You think you can stay up with us? I was sorry to hear about Sunrise. We were like brothers in Flight School. He was a good man.” Hook downed his shot of whisky and stared at Emma in confrontation.

 “Still is.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant. So, you figured it out yet? Who’s the best pilot? You need any help? Cause me and the Huntsman are always up for assisting a lady requiring a helping hand.”

That guy was the creepiest individual Emma had come across in a long time. She had an idea or two where he could shove his helping hand. Or how to sever it from his body, maybe. Get him to earn that call sign of his.

“I think I can figure it out on my own. Thanks, though.” Emma plastered the fakest smile she could on her face.

 “I heard that about you, Swan. You like to play it alone. You guys are lucky bastards, first the MiG then you conveniently slide into Sunrise’s spot. Some pilots wait for their whole careers to see a MiG up close.”

“We didn’t steal Sunrise’s spot. We’re here because we’re the best flyers in the wing, not because of the MiG.” Emma protested, her green eyes ablaze with fury. Who did that snake think he was?

“Keep telling yourself that, Swan. Don’t worry your pretty head about it too much, hey? See you later.” With a patronising pat on her upper arm, Hook disappeared into the crowd, followed by an apologetic-looking Hood.

“You were right, August. A non-entity and a dick.”

 

\--------------------

 

Every pretty girl in Fallon and its neighbouring counties must have been there, undoubtedly for the same thing as most of the Navy personnel on the premises. The Rabbit Hole was a pressure valve and its patrons were looking to release some steam, whether that was at the bottom of a bottle, on the dance floor or in a darker corner of the joint, bodies melting together.

“This is what I call a target-rich environment, Swan.” August teased, eager to take his friend’s mind off their latest encounter and to lighten the mood. It would do neither of them any good to let Emma stew. They had earned their place here, Sunrise or no Sunrise and Emma would do well to remember that.

“Despite what you believe, I don’t live my life between my legs, you jerk.” Emma punched him hard in the shoulder, her mood lifting somewhat.

“The Panigale, the admiral’s daughter and the string of women who have been warming your bed would beg to disagree, I am sure.”

“Pinocchio, even you could get laid in a place like this. This is not a challenge. And there is no ‘string’ as you so elegantly put it.”

 “I am a happily married, if currently celibate, man I will have you know. Ruby would not take kindly to you implying that she is an easy woman,” the blue-eyed man protested. “This will make this $50 an easy win for you then… “

August clasped his hand on Emma’s shoulder. “You have to have carnal knowledge of a _lady_ this time. And since you are so cocky, let’s make this interesting, shall we Savior?”

“First of all, stop calling me that, it’s going to stick. Second, interesting how?” Emma queried, already scanning the crowd for a potential target.

“Alright. For $100, the encounter must occur on the premises and I choose both the lady and the approach.” August confidently said.

“On the premises?” That was not too bad Emma thought. The rest, however… “No offence August, but you are rusty as fuck when it comes to women. You haven’t needed to flirt your way into anything since you put that ring on Ruby’s finger six years ago. If I’m going to use your tactics, you better make it a whole of a lot better deal than $100, let me tell you,” the blonde huffed.

“Alright, alright.” August raised his hands in defense. “We’ll make it $150 and a round of shots.”

“Deal but the shots are upfront, whether I win or not. Tequila. Now.”

August relented and ordered two shots from the barman before promptly returning his attention to looking for the perfect woman to unleash Emma on. He certainly had no intention of making this easy for his best friend. It was not about 'True Love' or 'Happily Ever After'. If it were, he would be there supporting her all the way, rainbow banners, glittery party hats and cake-topping unicorn figurines at the ready. No, this was at best a one-night stand (or a twenty minutes stand as the case may be), at worst a crushing defeat for the blonde and a happy wallet for him.

Knocking back his shot and slamming the glass onto the counter with a satisfied pop of the lips, the dark-haired man turned his gaze towards the entrance. His eyes widened slightly at the view of the nicest pair of legs he had seen in a long time, if ever. He quickly sent a subliminal message for Ruby to forgive him for even entertaining such blasphemous thoughts, but he had eyes and they were working very well, thank you. The pair of legs was now making its way to the bar on a pair of Louboutins. Though a man of the world, he had to admit he only knew this because Ruby had bored him to the brink of death one evening, claiming her entire survival as a 'redaholic' rested on her future ownership of the red-soled high heels. He hadn’t quite understood the importance of it but if they made her calves look as good as the ones he was currently staring at, his Christmas shopping list was already well on the way to being written.

At August’s continued silence and diverted attention, Emma followed his gaze to see what or whom had caught his attention. What she saw caught her attention too and her lips parted in admiration, the beer bottle in her hand stopping still on the way to her mouth.

A stunning brunette had just walked in, wearing a just-above-the-knee black pencil skirt and an impeccably ironed white shirt, the third button straining over her chest. Her dark eyes, shoulder-length dark hair and olive skin were in stark contrast with her blood red lips. Blood red lips Emma had the almost irresistible urge to smudge with her own. 

Glancing towards his stunned best friend, August reflected on the newcomer. The woman carried herself with an aplomb he had only ever witnessed in Emma, albeit in a very different manner. While Emma’s stance often seemed boyishly cocky – 'rakishly disarming' his friend would argue - this woman was almost regal and the perfect challenge for this bet.

“It’s going to be tough for you, Em. I mean, it doesn’t seem fair…”

Shaking her head to gather her thoughts, Emma stuttered “Fair? Wha… What? What are you talking about?” Yes, the woman was a stunner and yes, she oozed money and class from a mile off but that had never stopped Emma before. Did August really think she couldn’t pull it off?

Throwing his arm over the blonde’s shoulder with a pained look on his face, August shook his head almost regretfully. “She’s lost the loving feeling, mate…”

“She what? No. No, she hasn’t… August! No! Anything but that!” Emma whined and ran her hand around the back of her neck apprehensively. She was not drunk enough for what she knew was in store. Sure, approaching the brunette and buying her a drink was well within her comfort zone and her charming smile had laid waste to many a woman’s heart in the past but never had she had to try and gain any favors by being willingly ridiculed in public.

“It’s true, Emma. She’s lost it… There’s no way around it.”

“Oh man, I hate when you fucking do that!” Emma knocked back the last of her beer and put it back down in front of her, getting up and straightening her white dress shirt and belt. “Fine. Fine. But you take the lead.” $150 was just not worth the embarrassment, August had swindled her good. Still, there was an infinitesimal chance this woman was a self-deprecation connoisseur and would recognize the not-so-Grammy-winning performance for what it was. Ridicule apparently had never killed anyone and if it did, well… At least, she’d go down in history. What was that saying again? ‘First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they fight you and then you win?’

 

\--------------------

 

Regina Mills hated loud and crowded bars with unrivalled passion. Why she had agreed upon yet another date with a man well past his prime to please her mother was beyond her. Why she had agreed to meet him in the Rabbit Hole rather than an upmarket restaurant or jazz club in Reno was even further beyond her. Surely, it was a testament to her desire to appease Cora Mills that she lowered her standards to such an extent. Never would she have stepped foot into such an establishment of her own free will before, the _Silver State Officers' Club_ was more her scene. On the upside, she was closer to home and could make a swift exit, claiming an early start when things inevitably went pear-shaped.

Leopold White was an influential local businessman, a widower who seemed to have found a second wind in life after the death of his first wife. He owned a range of casinos and clubs both in Reno and Las Vegas and could be seen schmoozing his female VIPs on an almost daily basis. That he was actively looking for a newer model was no secret to anyone, least of all Regina’s mother who - with the kindness that defined her - told her daughter in no uncertain terms that “such a union would be mutually beneficial” and that Regina “was not getting any younger”. The laws of time and physics agreed with Cora, but Regina did not particularly agree with her assertion that 33 was “old”.

 The fact of the matter was that she had voluntarily walked into this den of iniquity populated mostly by pretty girls and Navy-heads. What it said about the standing Leopold held her in was rather blatant.

The heat hit her head-on as soon as she crossed the threshold. Failing to spot her date, she made her way to the bar, aware of a few lingering gazes on her body. Regina knew she was a good-looking woman. She always dressed well, on the verge of professional even in social contexts and her timeless beauty, upper-class upbringing and mannerisms made her stand out in a place like this. She cared little for the opinion of others and rolling her eyes internally at the sheer originality of it, ignored the few wolf whistles from the drunken men on the other side of the bar.

Leaning forward to make herself heard, she ordered a Mojito and kept her eyes on the polished yet already sticky counter while the barman mixed her drink. She was so absorbed in her contemplation of the wet alcohol stains on the dark wood that she missed the hush that descended on the bar and was startled when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

She turned around, expecting her date to have finally found her – he was late after all - but was met by a pair of blue eyes and a boyish grin. “Excuse me, Miss…” Her male admirer dressed in his full whites had not uttered four words that a blonde woman also in a Navy uniform with her hair in a tight bun and sparkling green eyes under long eyelashes slid in between them and intervened.

“Sorry, Miss. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this,” her savior apologized before turning her back to her and seemingly manhandling her friend away from her. Shaking her head in disbelief, Regina turned back and reached for the cocktail glass now sitting in front of her. It certainly hadn’t taken long for her to be hit on.

Her thoughts were once again interrupted, this time by a loud audio feedback noise followed by a female voice singing the first line of the Righteous Brothers, right behind her.

_You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips_

She spun on her bar stool, a quizzical eyebrow raised. Her savior was not saving her at all. Her savior was serenading her – badly. Staring straight into her eyes, the blonde moved the hand that was not holding the microphone from where it rested over her heart to slowly extend towards Regina’s cheek, palm open. The man she had “protected” her from now stood behind her and accompanied her, quite clearly her partner in crime. Thankfully he seemed to have a better grasp of the melody.

  
_And there's no tenderness like before in your fingertips_  
_You're trying hard not to show it_  


Not that any of this actually mattered. By now, the others having caught on to what was happening had joined in, and the cacophony was at its pinnacle. Regina was unsure for whom the experience was the most mortifying: her for being the centre of unexpected mass attention or the group of men and women in front of her, seemingly the only ones blissfully unaware of how out of tune they were.

  
_But baby, baby I know it_  
_You lost that lovin' feelin'_  
_Whoa, that lovin' feelin'_  
_You lost that lovin' feelin'_  
_Now it's gone, gone, gone, woh_  


In a bid to end the torture for all concerned, Regina relented and invited the blonde to sit down, to her fans’ acclaim and whoops. The uniformed woman raised both hands in victory and plopped down on the nearest bar stool. Dear God, how thin could the line between tipsy Navy officers and children sometimes be… It was time to have a little harmless fun at the beaming blonde’s expense.

“I think you have ruined this song for me forever, which I do not thank you for. I love that song.” Regina started. At her would-be suitor’s dimming smile, the brunette asked: “How long have to the two of you been performing this masterful act?”

The blonde leaned on the countertop and pretended to think hard about it. “I don’t know, since…”

“Since puberty?” Regina interrupted.

“Right, yeah. Since puberty.”

 For a still unknown reason, Regina decided to give the woman a break. “I’m Regina Mills.”

The blonde shook the offered hand. “Swan.”

The opportunity to tease was just too great to resist and the brunette dove right in. “Swan? What kind of name is that? Did your parents not like you?”

Swan sat up on her stool, mentally ruffling her imaginary feathers, obviously going for the kill. “No, it’s my call sign.”

Smirking internally, Regina widened her eyes in mock admiration “You’re a pilot?”

She could see the woman thought she was on the home straight when she cockily replied: “Yes, a Naval Aviator.”

The blonde bit her bottom lip before looking up into dark brown eyes. “Actually… We’ve only ever done that twice.”

Nice, playing the confidence and the vulnerability cards at the same time. Regina was impressed. On more unsuspecting targets than her, it was probably effective.

“And how did you do, dear?” Regina raised her eyebrow.

Swan winced. “Crashed and burnt on the first one.”

“And the second?”

“I don’t know... I’ll tell you tomorrow, but it’s looking good so far,” the blonde grinned.

The pilot was laying all her cards on the table, unbeknownst to her far too early to win any contest with Regina Mills. Reluctant to end her fun so soon but having spotted Leopold White from the corner of her eye, Regina flicked her hair back over her shoulder and regretfully decided to part ways with her admirer.

“Well… Swan. It’s been nice talking to you, but my date has arrived.” Glancing down to read Swan’s name tag on her chest, she could not resist one last barb. “May I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant Nolan? Are you a good pilot?"

Emma paused, clearly considering her words carefully before answering. “I can hold my own.”

“Great, then I won’t have to worry about your career as a singer.” With this parting shot, Regina picked up her glass from the counter and without a backward glance, made her way towards the table where Leopold was already sat, a leering smirk on his face. Regina couldn’t wait to get away and she hadn’t even said hello yet.

 

\--------------------

 

Emma was still sitting dumbfounded at the bar. Dumbfounded for three reasons: one, she had never been shot down like this. Ever. Two, that should most definitely not have turned her on, but the discomfort she was feeling down there was undeniable. Three, that discomfort was in no way helped by the fact that Regina’s Mills’ retreating ass was a sight to behold and beholding it was exactly what Emma was doing when she felt a strong arm across her torso and another across her neck effectively hugging her from behind.

“Fuck, man…”

“August, I’m gonna need some beer to put those flames out,” she disbelievingly announced to her sympathetic best friend.

“Yeah…” August winced. “That was… that was ugly. I almost feel bad collecting those $150 now. ‘Almost’ being, of course, the operative word.”

“I have no idea where I went wrong. I mean, look at me. And then look at THAT.” Emma wildly gestured in the direction the brunette had retreated a few moments earlier. Regina was now sat down at a booth near the side wall and was engaging in conversation with a beer-bellied balding man who thought curling his arm across the backrest and over Regina’s shoulders was a smooth move. “He’s at least 30 years older than her.”

“Maybe she’s a gold digger, maybe she’s after a sugar daddy.”

Emma scoffed. “Pinocchio, have you looked at her? That woman right there is digging her own gold. In fact, she owns the fucking mine. And if it’s sugar she was after, I thought I was quite clear - and suave actually -with what I was offering…” Emma swallowed a mouthful of her cold beer. It helped with the flames her body was producing but the rejection still stung.

“Well, maybe all is not lost, it looks like she’s looking your way, Swan. And leaving her table.”

Fuck it, she was going for broke. Emma got up with renewed resolve, smoothed the front of her impeccably starched shirt once more and followed the brunette to the ladies. Screw the money. This was about pride now.

Opening the door, she immediately zeroed in on Regina bending over the wash basin, reapplying her lipstick. Emma stood still, transfixed yet torn between the view of Regina’s behind her position afforded her and her newfound jealousy of blood red tinted beeswax.

Regina snapped the tube shut and lifted her gaze to the mirror in front of her, looking at the pilot’s reflection.

“Long cruise was it, sailor?”

Turning around to face her and leaning back against the sink, Regina crossed her arms over her chest, probably voluntarily accentuating the evil _evil_ cleavage in front of Emma in order to further disarm her. It was working. That button was going to pop any second, surely all Emma had to do was be vigilant. 

She knew she was not subtle. She knew she was behaving like a hormonal teenage boy. She knew all the moves that had brought her a modicum of success in the past were unquestionably deserting her in front of this woman. She also had come to realize that she was quite clearly a masochist. If the teasing smile the brunette was anything to go by, she was ready for round two of verbal sparring – unfortunately not the kind of sparring Emma was hoping for.

“So what do you suggest we do, Lieutenant? Tear each other’s clothes off and go at it on the floor right here?”

Emma bravely swallowed and attempted to regain her composure and cover up the initial misstep in her charm offensive with humor.

“I was more thinking along the lines of this counter, really.”

“The counter? You’re a classy individual I can tell, dear. Someone who values theirs and others' comfort too.”

Emma took a step forward and raised her hands to defuse the situation. She was on a slippery slope already and she had barely uttered a sentence.

“Actually… I came here to save you.”

Regina let out an incredulous laugh. “Save me? Like you ‘saved’ me from the so-called threat posed by the John Belushi to your Dan Aykroyd?”

“No, I came here to save you from making a big mistake with that older guy.” Emma pretended to shudder in mock disgust. “And that… They were the Blues Brothers, not the Righteous… but never mind,” she muttered.

“Really?” Regina pushed off the counter and took the final three steps to get into the blonde’s personal space. Lifting her hand to play with the top button of Swan’s dress shirt, she leaned forward to whisper in her ear in a sinfully sultry voice. “So that I could go on and make an even bigger one with you, Lieutenant?”

Emma’s senses were on overload. She was being outplayed, outmanoeuvred, she was drowning in the hot breath caressing her earlobe and the knuckles grazing her torso. Regina smelt of apples and cinnamon and Emma was an immediate fan. The brunette was playing in the big leagues and Emma, to both her surprise and mortification, had realized she barely knew how to walk. How embarrassing. How hot.

She knew she had bitten the dust for the second and last time this evening when Regina straightened and took a step back, fluffing her hair and checking her appearance in the mirror one last time. 

“I have to get up early in the morning. Thank you for the entertainment, Swan. It certainly was unorthodox.”

Before the brunette could reach the door however, Emma regained enough control over her brain and voice to call out to her.

“Regina, wait…”

 

\--------------------

 

Finishing his now warm beer while keeping an eye on the ladies’ door, August Booth saw the object of Emma’s attention exit the bathroom and make her way towards him.

Not stopping on her way back to the table where the older guy was in all likelihood still waiting for her, she threw a “your friend was magnificent” his way before disappearing out of sight.

Startled, it was only a few moments later that he noticed Emma and her shit-eating grin were standing right beside him, the blonde making the international hand sign for “pay up”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Facts** : The anecdote about 'Revlon' is true. Lt. Kara Hultgreen was 29 when her Tomcat slammed into the Pacific Ocean in October 1994.  
> Also, the Strike Fighter Squadron 103 (VF-103), nicknamed the Jolly Rogers is also a real aviation unit of the United States Navy. It was part of Operation Desert Storm in 1991. Any resemblance between our characters and real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.


	4. Nous étions jeunes et larges d'épaules

_“So it's not hard to fall_  
_When you float like a cannonball"_  


_Damien Rice – Cannonball_

* * *

The mid-summer sun was already beating down when Seahawk started with their first class of the day. Emma had trouble paying attention to him droning on about civilians and how the Pentagon trusted them and how they were an excellent source of intelligence and was flipping her pen between her fingers repeatedly in an effort to stay concentrated.

Feeling somewhat guilty for taking August’s money last night, she had spent most of it buying the two of them rounds of beer and B-52s. The aftermath wasn’t pretty, and she could almost hear her best friend’s brain moaning in pain behind the sunglasses he had put on as soon as they had taken a step outside of their accommodation this morning and had not taken off since.

The clicking of high heels on the tarmac they had set up on for the morning pulled the blonde out of her musings. “... call sign ‘Evil Queen’ or 'EQ' with a Ph.D. in astrophysics, she is one of the most qualified. She is a civilian contractor so you do not salute her but you better listen to her.”

Even if the sound of her footfalls was unfamiliar to the pilot, the smell of apple and cinnamon wafting as the woman walked past her to join Seahawk at the front of the class was unmistakable, and Emma sagged even further in her seat. Yup, that ass was unmistakable too. Fuck. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she had walked into hers...

“They’re all yours, EQ.”

“Thank you, Seahawk.”

Clad in a tailored charcoal dress hugging her feminine curves in all the right places, the slight wind playing with her dark tresses and her steely chocolate eyes stopping on every student in front of her, Regina Mills commanded attention and respect. Emma picked her aviators up and pulled them over her eyes in a last ditch effort to postpone her moment of reckoning. From the corner of her eye, she could see August sitting up and taking a sudden interest in the proceedings and grinning wildly in her direction.

“We will be dealing with F-5s as our MiG simulators. As you know, the F-5 doesn't have the thrust-to-weight ratio of the MiG-34 and it doesn't bleed energy below 300 knots like the MiG-34.”

Emma hadn’t paid much attention to what the woman in front of her was saying. She was too busy trying to evade her best friend’s gaze, making herself as small as possible all the while wondering how she had failed to notice that scar on her upper lip last night and what running her tongue lightly over it would feel like.

“However, the MiG-34 does have a problem with its inverted flight tanks. It won't do a negative G push-over. The latest intelligence tells us the most it will do is...”

At this, Emma perked up and looked at August who leaned over to whisper in her ear.

What he was going to say however was cut short by the Evil Queen’s sharp tone.

“I am sorry, Lieutenant. Is there something wrong?”

Oh yes, she had recognized her alright. Undeniably, the fact that she was the only female student narrowed the field of possibilities quite considerably. Nevermind, this could be fun. Maybe it was time for a little revenge, Emma thought.

"I’m sorry, but it would seem that your information on the MiG is incorrect, Ma’am.”

Regina raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. “And how is that, Lieutenant?”

Emma took her sunglasses off. She wasn’t going to hide for this confrontation, and she was pretty sure she was going to win this one. She wanted an unaltered view of Regina’s face when she did.

“Well, I just happened to see a MiG-34…”

At August’s fake cough on her right, Emma corrected her statement. “Sorry Pinocchio, _we_ just happened to see a MiG-34 do a 4G negative dive.”

Taken aback, the astrophysicist frowned sceptically.

“Where did you see this?”

Emma immediately sensed an opportunity to harmlessly tease the woman and jumped on it.

“That's classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.”

The brunette scoffed. “Lieutenant, I have Top Secret clearance. The Pentagon sees to it that I know more than you.”

“I am afraid that this does not seem to be the case.”

“So where we you, Lieutenant?”

“Well, we started up on his six when he pulled through the clouds and then I went above him.”

Knowing that she had the blonde, Regina challenged her. “If you were directly above him, how could you see him?”

Despite the smugness that was fighting to get out, Emma replied as innocently as she could. “Because I was inverted.”

At the loud laughs and calls of ‘bullshit’ from the rest of the group, August stood by his friend. “No, she was. It was a really great move. She was inverted.”

Regina however was not done with her cross-examination. “You were in a 4G… inverted dive… with a MiG-34?”

Emma no longer could contain her hubris. Her smile was beaming .“Yes, ma'am”.

“At what range?”

“About two I’d say.”

“Two miles?”

“Two meters.”

“About 1.5 actually I’d say,” August interfered. “I have an excellent picture of it.“

Ignoring Emma’s RIO, Regina could not help but wonder out loud. “Lieutenant? What were you doing there?”

Hesitating over the right answer, Emma finally settled on “Keeping up foreign relations, you know? Making sure they knew who we were. Diplomacy if you wish.”

Regina chuckled incredulously and shook her head slowly. “So you're the one?”

With her shit-eating grin firmly in place and an even blend of mirth and pride in her eyes, Emma put her sunglasses back on before confirming “Yes, ma'am.”

Before the conversation could go any further, Seahawk interrupted to signal the start of the first practice task for the day and give his final instructions. “Alright, listen up. We have a hop to take. The hard-deck on this is 10,000 feet. There'll be no engagement below that…”

Emma got up and gave Regina a wide parting smile before following the rest of the group out. She may have been shot down in flames last night but this morning the points were hers, and she was not half pleased about it.

“Lieutenant! Wait, please.”

At the sound of the woman’s voice, the two best friends stopped in their tracks. Checking with Emma that all was ok, August straightened the eagle pin on her chest before clasping both hands around her biceps “Don’t be late honey,” he shot before leaving.

Regina walked up to the blonde who was observing her coolly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the _MiG insulter_?”

“Would it have made a difference? Why didn’t you tell me you were a contractor for the Navy?”

“Not last night, no. I see sixteen new hotshots every eight weeks, I’m sure you can figure it out. And it just didn’t come up. Besides, you deserved it.”

“You let me make a fool of myself.”

At this Regina could not resist the pique. “You were doing a splendid job of it all on your own, Lieutenant. My help was in no way required. Your attention was flattering but juvenile, clumsy and ultimately unproductive. Maybe you ought to keep all that pent-up energy focused on flying, Swan.”

Relenting slightly, Regina softened. “This being said, I would very much like to hear about this MiG some time.”

Suitably chastised, Emma narrowed her eyes and retorted with a hint of spite. “You have security clearance. Why don’t you read about it?” before turning her heels to join the pre-flight briefing she was now surely late for. Who the fuck did that woman think she was? Yes, she was hot but that was no excuse for being an ass. Again. Emma had an inkling as to how the astrophysicist had earned _her_ call sign…

\--------------------

When an elated Emma and a beaming August entered the locker room carrying the white blue-starred helmets of the Bounty Hunters, some of the other pilots were already there in various stages of undress. It had become routine since they all started on the programme four days ago to hang around and wait to hear how everybody performed and rewrite the leaderboard in their head while showering and changing into their civilians clothes. The chatter dimmed as the new pair appeared. August flashed a 'thumbs up' sign and was immediately faced with a number of smiling faces, high fives and fists clenched in victory.

“You won?” Hood’s surprised voice carried over the cheers. “We got our asses handed to us on a silver platter. 30 seconds and we were blown out of the sky. We went like this and he went like that and all I could hear was Butch going ‘Where did he go?’ and then right there over the radio, Seahawk is there laughing at us and we’re dead.”

The ensuing laughter and good-natured ribbing hushed as Hook and Huntsman materialised in the doorway.

“That was me laughing at you, dickhead” Hook shouted, entering the room as if he owned it. 

Hot on his tail, Huntsman paused dramatically before giving a thumbs up as well. With all the composure of someone used to such attention, he calmly accepted the congratulatory high-fives he was given and made his way to his locker.

Emma, who had sat down on one of the benches and was in the middle of peeling out of her flight suit, offered her hand for the pilot to shake. “You won, congratulations. So did we.”

Hook, having made his way to join his crewmate, squared his shoulders in front of Emma before Humbert could take her hand in his. “That’s not what we heard”. 

Standing back up with a frown and ignoring their now mostly silent audience, Emma got into the RIO’s personal space and stared into his shifty eyes. “We won. We got Seahawk,” she said coolly before returning to her task, dismissing him. 

“You went below the deck, it doesn’t count. You guys are fucking cowboys. Just like Daddy, huh Swan?” Hook retorted.

Emma could not contain her contempt any longer and took another step forward, her nose almost touching the scumbag’s in front of her. “What’s your fucking problem, Jones? We nailed him.” 

Huntsman, who had so far observed the scene silently, answered in his RIO’s stead. “You’re everyone’s problem, Swan. When you fly, you’re unsafe. You’re dangerous and unreliable.”

Before Emma could reply, Seahawk’s booming voice resounded across the room. “Swan, Pinocchio. Gandalf’s office. Now.”

_Fuck._

\--------------------

Emma and August were waiting outside the door for what the blonde expected to be another reaming if the shouts coming from inside were any indication. Someone was screaming their head off and she had a fairly good idea of whom that may be. 

“Two of your snotty-nosed jockeys flew by the air tower at 400 knots unauthorised. I want their butts! Look at the state of my uniform! I spilt coffee all over it because of your clowns!”

Emma winced. That fly-by was perhaps ill-advised but then again weren’t they all? It was her signature victory lap of sorts and despite August’s protests she just hadn’t been able to help herself, consequences be damned. The office door flew open and a stout man with a large stain on his khaki shirt blasted through the door, shouting “Butts! I want butts!” before storming out. 

“Swan. Pinocchio. Get in here” Seahawk called from inside. 

Emma and August sheepishly stepped inside and stood still in front of Gandalf, their eyes fixed on the wall behind their superior. 

“Hell of a day if you ask me.” Gandalf shook his head, staring the both of them down. “The hard-deck for this hop was 10,000 feet. You knew it. You broke it. You followed Commander Montoya below after he lost sight of you. Why?”

This cold and even tone was not something the blonde was particularly used to. Most of the ass-chewing she had faced in the past had involved a lot of shouting on her commanding officer’s part and silence and a pseudo contrite face on hers. Rarely this. This felt more like the talking-to a disappointed father would give to their child and the sensation was unsettling for the young woman. She gathered herself, praying that her voice would not betray her. Emma swallowed hard.

“Sir, I had him in my sights. He saw me move in for the kill. He… proceeded below the hard-deck. We were below for just a few seconds. I had the shot. There was no danger, so… I took it.” 

Turning to face the window overlooking the hangar decks McKellen continued, his tone deliberate. “You took it and broke a major rule of engagement. Then you broke another one with that circus stunt fly-by. Lieutenant Nolan, Top Gun rules exist for your safety and for that of your team. They're not flexible, nor am I. Obey them or you're history. Is that clear?” 

Deciding that arguing further was not the best strategy, Emma cut her losses. “Yes, Sir.” 

Gauging her insincerity and coming up empty, Montoya let them go. “Dismissed.” 

The grey-haired man waited for the door to have closed behind the two pilots to address Montoya. “Tell me one thing. If you had to go into combat… would you take her with you?”

Montoya sighed, undecided. “I don’t know what to tell you. She is flying by the seat of her pants. She is completely unpredictable and that is rarely a good thing. But I don’t know… there is something there. She is talented, there is no doubt. She did get me. As for taking her with me… I really don’t know.”

“Swan… I flew with her old man…”

McKellen closed the fitness report in his hand and threw it on the desk with a thud, his mind firmly on a past he was not quite willing to share and the long lost friend whose offspring had just exited his office.

\--------------------

“Still awake?”

August’s voice jarred Emma from her thoughts, having apparently missed the knock on her bedroom door.

She had been spending the last couple of hours at home in semi-darkness, the warm light emanating from the table lamp beside the couch and a steady supply of Irish whisky the only witnesses to her misery. She had sought answers in alcohol enough times to know that in all likelihood she would not find them there this time either. Neither would she find solace nor courage. The mouth-burning, mind-numbing sensation it provided was a familiar friend nevertheless, and she welcomed it with open arms. She had been in Fallon for less than a week and already her name was infamous on base. She had been close to jeopardizing both hers and her best friend’s place in Top Gun.

She knew she could be impetuous, she always had been. She often talked with her heart rather than with her head, more with her fists than with her brain. Growing up, August had been the brains and she was the brawn, even if time had taught her patience and reflexion. It had served her well in the past and when coupled with her reflexes and instincts made her a fierce pilot for the enemy to face. Yet here she was, being told twice in the space of a couple of weeks that she was a danger to her side too.

She lifted her head and gave the only rock left in her life a sad but welcoming smile. August’s head was poking around the door, his long fingers drumming lightly on the jamb by his head. His face was a mixture of concern and indecision and Emma knew that her disappearing act after Gandalf’s scolding had earned her his current standoffishness. The melting ice cubes clinking as Emma dropped the empty tumbler onto the side table resonating in the silent living room, she gestured for him to come in.

“Hey… Can’t sleep?”

August shook his head and walked slowly to the armchair beside his friend. No matter how long he had known the woman, he was clearly torn as to how to approach the upcoming discussion.

“What the fuck was that, Emma?” the dark-haired man softly enquired.

“Et tu, Brute?” the blonde chuckled, wishing for a second that her glass was full again and the bottle not so out of reach. She wasn’t sure she had drunk enough for this conversation. Instead, pulled the hood of her US Navy sweater and burrowed her head into it, both hands firmly cradling her midriff through the pouch. Her "hedgehog move" as August called it, designed to shield her away from any onslaught. It had been a long time since she had seen such a serious look on her best friend’s face and she was not looking forward to the conversation.

“Emma, don’t fuck with me...” he groaned and pulled her hood from her face, forcing her to look at him properly .

Emma hid her face with her hands and took a deep breath. “I know. I’m sorry… Just…”

“You know... When I realized we were off to Top Gun, all I could think about was that trophy. We had achieved our dream, Emma. Twenty years in the making and we were there, rubbing shoulders with the best. _Being the best_. I never doubted we would succeed because you and I we're the best team I know but shit, Emma... I've got to be straight with you. Right now, I just hope we graduate. I got a family to think about. Ruby. Hopefully one day a kid. We're ready for it, and I can't afford to blow this.”

The conviction and hurt in his voice hit Emma to her core. She had been foolish, she knew this. But never before had August swam against her tide. Now that he did, she seriously had to reconsider her choices.

“I guess that fly-by wasn't such a big hit, huh?” Self-loathing was a comfortable coat she often wore.

“I know it's tough. They're all hard on you, judging you because you're David Nolan’s kid. You have to live with that reputation. But every time you’re up there it's like you're flying against a ghost. It makes me nervous."

“Oh God..." the blonde exclaimed, taking his hand in her own. "August, you're the only family I've got left. I'm not gonna let you down. I promise.”

August pulled her up from her seat and wrapped her in the brotherly hug she had so often relied on to remain grounded. As with many other things in her life, if she couldn't do it for herself maybe she could do it for him.


	5. Prelude to a kiss

  
_“Look at me so you understand._  
_I do not wish to tame what is wild in you._  
_I wish to run with it.”_  


_R. Queen_

 

* * *

 

It was the end of their second week in Top Gun, and Emma was on her best behavior, as taxing as she found the task. Her mind drifting from the open book in front of her, she chewed the end of her pencil pensively. No matter what she did her conversation with August had been replaying in her mind, no more often than on those lonely nights where the heat stuck bed sheets to her naked skin and made her already light sleep even more elusive.

The very last thing she ever wanted to do was to endanger her best friend. They were not idiots, they both knew what they had signed up for. They were aware of the risks, peace time or war time. They had both grown up on military bases, they had seen death strike families indiscriminately and the ruins it left in its wake. Her own father's passion, his vocation had orphaned Emma. She had felt the stabbing in her chest at seeing her mother crumpled on the floor, two Navy officers in dress uniform standing on the porch and looking on, their faces closed but their eyes full of sorrow and pity. She had heard that inhuman wailing sound that reverberated beyond the lobby but could only come from her mother, and she knew then that her life would never be the same.

Yes, she had known loss first-hand and wanted to protect her family at all costs. Pinocchio was her family. Ruby was her family and she knew that when the time came, their child, their children would be her family too. They were hopeful it would be soon. She had first-hand knowledge that it wasn’t for a lack of trying... The thought made her smile and shudder at the same time.

She knew the damage losing one's True Love could wreak on someone, as strong and joyous and full of life as they may have been. She had witnessed her mother wither away for long enough, she had lived with her shadow for long enough. She knew for sure that dying of a broken heart was not a myth. Meaningless but physically satisfying encounters were the way to go: in order to protect her family, she had to protect herself too.

Over the last two weeks, her interest in Regina Mills had spiked if that was even possible. The woman was gorgeous, smart and took no prisoners. Not that Emma would mind being her prisoner for a while... She wielded her knowledge like a sword, and her smoky voice had many of her classmates spellbound.

Emma was not impervious to the astrophysicist's charms either. Ever since that first night in the bar and the undisputable debacle that their interactions had been, she had given the brunette a wide berth. Ever since her discovery that the blonde who had pursued her was one of her students, Regina had adopted a similar line of action, yet Emma had caught her gaze lingering a few times and had smirked to herself. If going on the offensive had not paid off, she could be patient. The flight instructor wanted something from her, information she had taunted her with and Emma figured it was a matter of time before that specific bait was taken.

The blond pilot was so fixated on her thoughts that she missed the slow clacking of heels approaching her desk in the study room. Only when a Regina Mills-shaped shadow cast itself upon her notepad did she lift her head to take in her visitor.

“A rolling reversal would work well in that situation.”

Emma dragged her gaze up from the manicured hand lightly resting on the side of her desk to the gold buckle of a black leather belt cinching a slim waist and further up to the tight black bodice of a sleeveless dress. Forcing herself not to let her eyes linger on the tantalizing chest in front of her, Emma considered the woman carefully and recognized the look in the dark eyes staring at her for what it was: a challenge.

“If I reversed on a hard cross, I could go to guns on him.” Emma took the bait.

A glint of amusement passed across the brunette’s eyes in acknowledgment. “But at that speed, it's too fast. It’s a bit too... aggressive” she chastised.

Emma dropped her pen on the desk before leaning back in her chair to observe Regina. The woman was hot, that was undeniable. It was what had attracted her in the first place: her beauty, the way she carried herself as if the world ought to be aware of her brilliance and treat her accordingly. However, it took more than good looks to sustain Emma's attention, and she had indeed come to appreciate the woman for what she was: an exceptional mind and tactician, cool under pressure and imposing respect. The instructor having delivered the opening salvo though, Emma decided to put some chips down.

“I guess when I see something, I go right after it.”

Regina narrowed her eyes. “The hottest moves in the world are not going to help you if you wind up alone, Lieutenant. Your wingman has got to be able to follow you. Trust you. Know that he or she can depend on you. It's more than just fancy flying.”

Emma was well aware that the conversation had turned from a critique of her flying technique to a critique of her flirting technique, and she relished the opportunity to play and unsettle the aloof woman.

“Well, what you need... is a wingman who can stay up with you, who can match you move for move. Then you've got something.”

The brunette in front of her was spirited and tenacious, two qualities she valued greatly. Acknowledging this to the woman in front of her in any way, however, would not be to her advantage.

“There you go with those moves again Lieutenant.”

Emma cocked her head to the side and grinned.

“Too aggressive?”

Emma pressed on, aware of both Regina's silence and of the other students who unsuccessfully feigned disinterest in the conversation happening around them. At first glance, Emma identified Hood, too focused on the textbook in front of him to be genuine and Hook, who was sitting right in front of her, obnoxiously chewing gum and playing with a model airplane.

"Come on, you were about to invite me to dinner." Emma lowered her voice in an attempt to keep their discussion somewhat private.

“I don’t date students.”

“I’m special.” Emma rakishly grinned.

“Yes, indeed you are. I’ll give you that.” Regina chuckled before continuing. “Swan, you know the rules of engagement. Someone comes up behind you, what do you do?”

Green eyes narrowing, Emma wondered where the brunette was going with this. She knew a frontal attack approach when she saw one, and that was one right there, staring at her in the face.

“You turn into them, check them out, identify friend or foe,” the instructor explained.

_ I'm not your foe _ came the unbidden thought to Emma’s mind. She was wise enough to remain silent and observe how this would play out. 

“And if they're harmless, you disengage,” the brunette concluded.

Being called harmless was a new one on Emma. She leaned forward in her chair, her forearm resting on her discarded notepad.

“What if they're not?”

“Then you have to shoot them down... If they’re smart, they'll turn away before that happens.”

“I can see it's dangerous for you. But if the government trusts me... maybe you could.”

Carefully considering her next move, Regina bent over the desk and reached for the pad under Emma's arm, brushing her fingers over the blonde's warm skin in the process before scribbling a note. Tearing the top sheet and folding it in two, she slid it towards the blonde, her mouth close to the pilot's ear.

“As I said Lieutenant Nolan, it takes more than fancy flying or indeed asking me to sit in the cockpit of your plane to play with your levers and buttons.”

Belying the words she had just suggestively uttered, Regina gave her most innocent and disarming smile, happy to have won this round also. The blonde was putting up a good fight, but she was a straight shooter. What you saw was what you got. No finesse, no evil plotting. This was almost too easy, she smiled to herself as she turned away and walked out of the room, confident that the blonde's mouth would not close any time soon.

Emma shook her head at the sound of someone mimicking the sound of a bomb dropping.

"Crash and burn, Swan huh?" Hook laughed in front of her and raised his arm high, releasing the airplane he held in his hand.

Emma unfolded the paper Regina had left on her desk and casting a quick glance at it, she smiled in satisfaction.

_Dinner tomorrow_  
_6 pm SHARP!!_  
_108 Mifflin Street_  
_Classified_  


Gathering her belongings, she refolded the paper neatly and tucked it into her notepad then stood up and approached Jones. Bending towards him, she sniffed before retreating with a distasteful scowl.

“Hook... You stink.”

It may have been juvenile, but she was not above playground tactics. If that was the game Hook wanted to play, she was all for it. In the meantime, she had a date to think about.

\--------------------

As usual, Emma was running late. It was Saturday afternoon and August had dragged her to an impromptu beach-volley tournament he had signed them up for without her knowledge. "Beach" was a gross overstatement, it was nothing more than a giant sandpit on the side of the outdoors Olympic-size swimming pool but it fit the purpose.

Sure, she was always up for some friendly - or not so friendly depending on their opponent - competition and the poor guy couldn’t know of her newly amended plans for the day. He had looked heart-broken when Emma voiced her intention to leave after the second set against Huntsman and Hook. There were few things that the blonde wanted more than to take the match into a decider and shove their victory in Hook’s face now and for days to come. Dinner with Regina was one of them.

How the guy passed all the physical tests to be a Naval aviator was beyond Emma. Guyliner was a scrawny fuck and he knew it. While everyone else had shed their shirts a long time ago, showing off pecs, abs and biceps for all to see, Jones proudly hid his upper body under a red "Join the Navy, see the world: 70% water" T-shirt. Probably a Christmas present from his brother or a parting gift from a disgruntled girlfriend. Or boyfriend.

She herself wore nothing more than a red bikini top and the cut-off denim shorts she had elected to wear over the matching bottoms. The ogling from her classmates was bad enough and she could not stand the slimy lecherous looks Jones was casting her way. God, the man was a creep and she had no intention of giving him any more solo night-time activities material than strictly necessary.

With a kiss on her best friend’s cheek and a promise to make it up to him, Emma slipped her jeans and white tank top back on and made a beeline for her bike, shrugging casually into her brown leather jacket. She shook the blond curls she had somewhat tamed into a ponytail in anticipation of the tournament loose. She decided to forego her helmet, relishing the prospect of feeling the wind in her hair as she rode out to the desert.

Straddling the yellow beast and reaching for her aviators in her jacket pocket, Emma turned the ignition key and kicked the engine to life. Nothing calmed her nerves as much as the revving of her motorbike and the feeling of unleashed power underneath her. Checking left and right before shifting into gear, Emma merged into the oncoming traffic, a hard ride followed by dinner in gorgeous company the only two things on her mind.

\--------------------

Emma had pushed her bike slightly more than she ought to have to conform to the speed limits but slightly less than necessary to avoid being late and her watch showed 6:07 pm as she pulled into the driveway of an isolated bungalow in the middle of the desert. How that house carried the number 108, she couldn't quite figure out. She ran her fingers through her blond mane in an effort to look more presentable to the always impeccable flight instructor and took in her surroundings.

Located at the bottom of the hills off the Lincoln Highway, Regina’s home was in stark contrast to the ochre tones in the backdrop. Its clean lines and ubiquitous glass walls overlooking a manicured lawn shaded by giant palm trees were a testament to Regina’s taste. Simple but stylish and expensive.

Witnessing no sign of life or any obvious front door she could knock at, Emma berated herself once more before rounding the corner of the house, finding a wide expanse of green surrounding a magnificent sunken pool. There again, a wall-length bay window separated the pool from a living area where she detected movement, Sam Cooke’s unmistakeable tones filtering through.

_It's been a long, a long time coming_  
_but I know a change gon' come,_  
_Oh yes, it will_  


Emma hummed softly along.

“Lieutenant” Regina’s voice called from inside.

Hesitantly stepping in, Emma took off her sunglasses before greeting her host with a smile and an uncharacteristically shy wave.

“Hi...”

Regina was standing at the kitchen island in wide-legged white linen trousers and a navy scoop neck shirt that displayed a healthy amount of cleavage, putting the finishing touches to a salad dressing.

“What? No singing this time?” Regina smirked, an affectionately teasing tone in her voice. “You’re late,” she chided but there was no bite in her voice.

“Actually, I kinda was...” The blonde blushed and looked at her watch, not quite sure what to say. Regina cut her off, saving her the embarrassment before an other word could cross her lips.

“No apologies. Come on, I’m hungry.” The brunette indicated for the blonde to grab the salad bowl and dressing before taking a delicious-smelling dish of lasagna from the oven and making her way to the wicker patio table outside, not waiting for Emma to follow her.

\--------------------

“And then I thought about it. I thought ’you know, she's a smart woman despite her dubious flirting methods. Why don't you just tell her why you've got her here?"

Emma smiled knowingly and cocked her head in response. The long-awaited moment where Regina would fold had finally arrived.

Regina folded her napkin and set it on the table before leaning forward, her chin propped on the back of her hand, the corner of her lips upturned into a ghost of a smile.

“It's the MiG. You're the only pilot who's been up against a MiG-34, Lieutenant.”

The blonde deliberately nodded but remained silent.

“I'm trying for this big promotion. If I could get some information, I won’t deny that it would help my project and my career a great deal.”

Emma pursed her lips in acknowledgment and took a sip of her wine. She was more of a beer drinker but she had to admit that it went really well with the best lasagna she had ever had. She was not beyond teasing the astrophysicist and making her stew a little. Tasting a little of one’s own medicine had never hurt anyone, and she let the silence hang between them for a few more seconds.

“Well... Seems to me you've got it all figured out. Do you always get what you want?”

“No, not always,” Regina weakly protested. At Emma’s raised eyebrow, she conceded with what could pass as a conceited grin. “Yes, maybe.”

Emma set her wine glass back on the table and ran her fingers up and down the stem as if deep in thought. Taking pity on her host, she relented and gave her toothy smile. “Then relax about the MiG.”

The smile vanishing from her face as quickly as it had appeared, Regina warned “Swan, I'm going be honest with you. Your MiG sighting is crucial to my work, but... I don't typically invite students to my house. You're...

“Special. I told you so, yes.” Emma winked.

“Emma, I am serious. I want it understood. No fooling on base, no signs, no comments, no talk. By anyone.”

"Emma? Are you calling me Emma? No fooling around on base?"

The blonde could no longer contain her exhilaration. Regina had relented. Regina was interested. Regina probably thought she was hot and cute at the same time, a balance Emma had spent a long time perfecting.

"What is this, Regina? Are you admitting that this is about more than the MiG? Is this a dinner date? Did you invite me here on a date?"

Emma reclined in her seat and crossed her legs, a blinding smile lighting her face. The lack of denial and the faint blush on the brunette's cheeks was good enough for her.

\--------------------

After a delicious slice of homemade apple turnovers (or two as was the case for Emma), they had retreated to the poolside and were sipping their wine, content in each other's wordless company for the time being. The soulful voice of Otis Redding singing _(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay_ was the only sound disturbing the silence of the desert around.

Emma was sitting on the edge of the pool, her legs immersed to mid-calf in the water, eyes closed and her face tilted towards the sun. The warmth, the wine, the music... It had been a while since Emma had felt so relaxed and let herself enjoy such a moment of elusive peace. It reminded her of her childhood in Miramar, minus the wine of course.

“My parents loved this tune. I haven't heard this in years. My mother used to call from her room and have me play this over and over. I got so sick of it. But not her. She'd sit up there alone, just listening for hours,” she confessed.

Lost in her memories, Emma was barely conscious she was reminiscing out loud.

“She... She died nine years after him,” she murmured, her voice so low that Regina barely caught it.

Regina got up from the lounger she had been reclining on and lowered herself onto the poolside tiles next to Emma.

“May I ask what happened to your father?”

“I figured with your security clearance you'd know more about it than I do.”

Emma turned towards Regina and cracked an eye open. She should have brought her aviators with her but she was too lazy to get up and get them.

“It's a big mystery. David ‘Charming’ Nolan disappeared in an F-14 on January 25th, 1991. The stink of it was... he screwed up. No way. My dad was a great fighter pilot. But who the hell knows? It's all classified.”

“Is that why you're always second best up there?”

“Wow. You are direct, aren't you?” Emma blinked in surprise and recoiled somewhat.

Regina immediately felt guilt rising up her throat. The older woman had always been forthright but that was close to the bone even for her. This was not flirting banter. Emma was sharing something personal, and she should not have reacted the way she had.

“I'm sorry for being direct.”

“No apologies. I'm sorry I was late.”

“This is going to be complicated,” the brunette smiled hesitantly.

Emma nodded slowly. Maybe this was going to be complicated. Regina had laid down her conditions for taking this - whatever this was - any further and Emma had no objections to any of them. She was not a particularly tactile person outside of people she considered family, and it had been so long since she had a non-platonic relationship where tenderness and affection were part of the equation that she was not quite sure she knew how to do this. There had been Lily, but it was so long ago it might as well have been in a different lifetime.

Their interactions had been comfortable from the start. The banter, the teasing, the rebukes even had been laced with humor and lust, and as far as the blonde was concerned, it was not a bad basis to start from.

Swinging her legs up and to the side, she set her feet back on the ground and got up, extending her hand to Regina, who took it with a quizzical look in her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on.” Emma pulled the brunette up and kept hold of her hand, leading her back into the house. “You need to go and get changed. If this is a date, I’m in charge of part 2.”

“And what would you like me to change into, Lieutenant Nolan? A skimpy bikini?”

“Very tempting, I must say. Later maybe?”

Emma tried to regain her composure before her ovaries exploded at the prospect of seeing Regina in a barely-there two-piece suit.

“A pair of jeans and a leather jacket will do for the moment. Although... do you even own a pair of jeans?” the pilot teased.

“I am sure I can find a pair at the back of my closet somewhere, yes. Leather... I have plenty of that.” Regina winked before releasing Emma’s hand and sauntering towards her bedroom, leaving the blonde stunned once more. So sooo easy. How sweet the defeat though... Emma shook her head. The yellow Panigale might not be her wildest ride for much longer if Regina had any say in it.

\--------------------

Regina could definitely see the appeal. She had never ridden on a motorbike before and her mother would have surely disapproved and deemed it unlady-like. She cherished any small victory she could get over her mother, even the ones Cora would never know about.

Emma had lent her an appalling-looking yellow helmet which she had helped secure under her chin before mounting her bike and gesturing for Regina to do the same. Kicking the stand and drawing Regina’s arms around her waist, Emma had revved the engine and told her to hold on.

She had to admit that the feeling of supple leather under her hands, the warmth of the other woman’s body against her chest and the power of the bike underneath them were exhilarating. She had no idea where Emma was taking them and for the first time in her life, the destination mattered little to her. She was enjoying the journey and when Emma pulled up in front of... nothing, she could not help but wonder what the blonde was up to.

Emma killed the engine and dismounted her bike, taking Regina’s hand to help her. Undoing the strap and tugging the helmet off, her first reflex was to reach up and attempt to tame her hair as best she could.

“Your hair is perfect, Regina. Just like the rest of you.” Emma bit her lip, fruitlessly attempting to hide her grin at the brunette’s actions.

“Smooth, really smooth. Is that the kind of thing you learn in Aviation Officer Candidate School, Lieutenant?”

“I learnt many things in Pensacola, Doctor Mills. Unspeakable things. But this? Just my charming self at your service,” Emma bowed slightly, only straightening back up at the sound of Regina’s rich chuckle.

"Your techniques are certainly unorthodox Swan, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out why but they are working..."

“Yeah?”

“Yes, dear. Now, please tell me why you brought us here, in the middle of nowhere. Was my house not isolated enough for you?”

“Short of giving you a ride in my plane, I thought you may enjoy a ride on the bike? And I have also been told that the sunset in the desert is a sight to behold so... I have also been told that there were lakes here but they must be mostly dried out this time of year, huh? I had thought we could come here, have a walk around the now non-existing lake and wait it out? It shouldn’t be much longer... We can sit on my jacket if you want? I'm sorry this is not turning out quite as I had hoped...” the blonde rambled on.

Emma's big green eyes were wide and hopeful and open, and they were Regina's undoing. Closing the gap between them and snaking one arm around the pilot's slender waist, she cupped her chin with her free hand, caressing the soft skin over her defined jawbone until she reached her ear and curled her fingers softly into the unruly blonde mane.

“You brought me here for a walk around a lake and to watch the sunset? Maybe you are not that unorthodox after all, are you?”

Holding Emma’s gaze and before Emma could even think of a reply, Regina leaned forward and brushed her full lips over the blonde’s, silencing her for a second before a moan escaped from her chest. Regaining her senses, Emma looped her strong arms around her back before requesting entrance to Regina’s mouth with a tentative tongue. Regina grasped Emma’s belt and pulled her closer, allowing herself to taste her for the first time and delighted in the feeling of the soft exploration before pulling back breathless.

Emma nuzzled her temple before settling her forehead against Regina’s and whispering “No, maybe not that unorthodox at all.”


	6. Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I

  
_“The conversation between your fingers and someone else’s skin._  
_This is the most important discussion you can ever have.”_  


_Iain Thomas_

 

* * *

 

Emma broke the water surface with a gasp and ran her hands over her sun-kissed face, wiping the remaining droplets away and attempting to slick her long blonde hair out of her eyes. Spotting Regina coming out through her patio doors, she grinned and waded towards her. God, that woman was gorgeous and the forest green two-piece swimsuit she was sporting looked like it had been made for her.

Emma had never been shy about her own body, years sharing locker rooms and living quarters in the military had made sure of that. Hell, she worked at being at the top of her fitness levels hard enough to enjoy showing it off once in a while and for her to be more than aware of the effect it had on unsuspecting onlookers. She also hadn’t failed to notice that Regina was an arms and abs woman, catching her staring whenever she was wearing her signature tank tops and relishing the attention.

Giving in to the temptation to tease the brunette, she effortlessly pulled herself up over the edge of the pool, stretched her arms and back up showing her rock-hard midriff and casually strutted towards the lounger she had laid claim to earlier. 

The dog tags around her neck were nestled between her firm breasts. Her red bikini top left little to the imagination and water was dripping from her torso down her abs, her legs and eventually pooling on the tiled floor of Regina’s deck. Emma Nolan was a sight for sore eyes.

Grabbing the beach towel she had left on the lounger, she tied it around her waist over the matching red boy shorts that made her legs look like they went on for miles. 

Sitting down, she reached for the aviators she had discarded earlier on before diving into the water and put them back over eyes. Behind the safety the tinted lenses afforded her, Emma glanced towards Regina to ascertain whether her little stunt has been as successful as she had hoped. 

Indeed, the brunette had stopped in her tracks, her mouth slightly open and the tray she carried swaying precariously in her hands. Swallowing with a gulp and shaking her head to rid her mind of the raw sexiness that was the vision in front of her, Regina looked into Emma’s eyes, frowning slightly at the self-assured smirk growing on the blonde’s lips. Savior 1 - 0 Evil Queen.

Regina was a born competitor. It had been drilled into her psyche, had molded her behaviour, her outlook on both life and people since she was a child. Winning was as important to her as breathing. Recognizing the challenge for what it was and not one to be outdone in this strange game of one-upmanship they seemed to be engaging in since they first met, she bent down to rest the tray of apple cider and cut-up fresh fruits on the side table between the two chairs, taking longer than strictly necessary to straighten back up with a single purpose in mind.

“Lieutenant.”

At the sound of Regina's sharp but amused tone, Emma's eyes snapped back up to the brunette's face from where they had inexorably drifted as her host had bent down. Evil Queen indeed. Evil, perfect olive-skinned cleavage too.

Emma had the grace to blush slightly but attempted (alas to no avail) to hide it behind a cocky grin. Regina was too astute an observer to fall for this basic trick and given the fact that Emma seemed to be a most favored topic of study for the scientist, the blonde really had no choice but to concede the point. 1-1.

Pressing her advantage and making sure Emma’s gaze was still firmly on her, Regina slowly brought her hands around her hips, untying the teal sarong she had wrapped around her toned midriff and dropped it carelessly to the floor, neatness be damned. 

If Regina was an arms woman, Emma’s weakness was undeniably hips and asses. As enticing as the view of the brunette’s chest had been, it was nothing compared to the effect Regina’s lower body curves had on the blonde’s heart rate and she found herself blowing heavily upwards in an effort to cool her face under the guise of removing hair from in front of her eyes. Regina looked at her and smirked knowingly. Swan 1 – 2 Evil Queen.

Smelling blood and showing no mercy for her prey, Regina picked up a slice of pineapple from the tray and extended her hand towards the blonde, offering the piece of fruit with a smoldering look and daring her to simply bite into it. Had Emma's higher brain functions still been intact, she may have still had a chance of surviving the encounter, but she had been dealt a deadly blow, and she could do nothing but open her mouth to accept the offering and taste the defeat that coated it.

Nodding her head once and smiling wryly, Emma surrendered. Whoever said ‘evil never wins' had obviously never met Regina Mills, double Ph.D. in astrophysics and malevolence. Swan 1 - 3 Evil Queen. A victory by knockout in the fourth round. 

Emma opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the piece of fruit, catching Regina’s fingers in the process and touching them with her tongue, the almost obscene and altogether not entirely voluntary moan that left her throat shot a wave of electricity directly to Regina’s centre. Had the blonde had her eyes open, she would have caught the slight unbalance it caused her opponent and would have claimed the point for it.

“Mmmmm. Food… You… My Super Hornet…”

“In that order, Lieutenant?” Regina raised an eyebrow, having gathered herself somewhat.

“Well, no… reverse order” Emma swallowed.

“I fail to see how this is any better from my perspective, dear. I am still second best.”

Emma leaned forward, pulling her sunglasses over her head and peered into Regina’s mirthful eyes.

“Have you ever flown in a fighter jet, Regina?”

At this, Regina chuckled. “I don’t fly in anything that does not have a reclining seat, champagne on demand and doesn’t show movies, Swan.”

“You would love it. The adrenaline rush of a night carrier landing, the crushing weight of 7 or 8 Gs against your chest as you take off… that’s one of the most exhilarating, dangerous thing you can think of. Beside you... Greatest high in the world.”

The pilot's enthusiasm was evident in her sparkling green eyes and her animated face, yet Regina found the thought sobering. Lt. Nolan was a free electron, not attached to this world by its conventional ties of safety and self-preservation but moving solely under the influence of her character and strong will, heedless of risk and laughing in the face of death. In her three years as a consultant at Top Gun, Regina had never met any student or indeed instructor with such raw, reckless untapped talent, with so much disregard for their life whilst in the air and yet so hedonistic when back on terra firma.

“Danger?”

"Yeah. You feel like Icarus, getting closer and closer to the sun." 

“Does it ever bother you?” Regina asked softly.

“What? The prospect of getting burnt? Of my wings falling off? Why, what’s going to happen?” Emma asked as she got up to untie her towel and lay it down on the lounger once more before lying on top of it, the sun warming her skin as she closed her eyes. 

As she settled, the waistband of her boy shorts shifted lower, past her hipbone, revealing a line of writing Regina hadn't noticed before. Distracted by the newly exposed skin, Regina made her way over to Emma to have a closer look and unexpectedly changed the conversation subject.

“What does this mean?”

“What does what mean?” Emma said, blinking into the sun before shielding her eyes with her hand and turning towards the brunette.

“There, your tattoo.” Regina pointed at Emma’s hip, fighting the urge to run the tip of her index finger over the beautiful script. “What language is this? I would guess something Scandinavian?”

"It's Danish," Emma replied tersely, pulling her sunglasses over her eyes once again and tugging at the waistband, covering her tattoo. 

Despite the urge to have the blonde open up to her further, Regina reined in her curiosity and dropped the subject. Emma Nolan was nothing if not blunt, and her body language clearly signified that this particular topic was off limits.

They had made such good stride over the last week - since their first date that wasn’t one but really was - and the last thing Regina wanted was to ruin it by pressing the pilot too hard. She was such a mystery, so closed off still and yet could get so animated and enthusiastic when it came to her passions, her job. Yet, almost as soon as Emma lifted a corner of the veil over her personal life, her past, her family, she just as quickly pulled it back down, afraid to have said too much, revealed information that would lead to a breach in the walls that she had painstakingly constructed around herself and ultimately lead to her demise, having left herself open and vulnerable.

Having others take advantage of offered kindness, youthful naivety and being used for someone else’s personal gain or entertainment was a feeling Regina was only too familiar with. As such, she tried not to be offended by Emma’s behavior and to convince herself that this was not personal even if it was maddening as Hell. If she wanted their relationship to progress in any way beyond this casual and future mutually beneficial acquaintance, she would need to figure out a way to entice the blonde to lower her defences and let her in. The time, however, was not now. The walls were up and were not coming back down any time soon.

“Would you like a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted?” she asked instead and Emma nodded, accepting the glass as the peace offering it was and smiled gratefully.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I’m not…”

Raising her leg over the blonde's body, Regina straddled her rock-hard abs, feeling them clench underneath her thighs to support her weight better. Lifting Emma's glasses back up she hovered over the blonde, both hands gripping the lounger's headrest for additional support, her face inches away from Emma's.

“Shhhh… No apologies, remember?”

Regina kissed the blonde’s chest, slowly licking a tortuous path to her shoulder and neck, nipping at her jawline before softly claiming her lips, driving all doubts that the pilot was forgiven away.

 

\-----------------------

“Swan… relationships are a bitch, especially here. I mean, don't you find it hard to concentrate already with all that pressure? Having a woman is just asking for trouble, and I don't just mean the homophobic kind of trouble. Where do you even find the time? Where do you find the energy?”

“August…” Emma sighed. 

She and her brother in arms had shared much over the course of the last 20-odd years. Sometimes arguably too much. What she had with Regina, however, was something she wanted to fiercely protect. She had promised the brunette that there would be no hints, no talk while on base and despite the itching in her fingers every time she found herself within a 20-feet radius of the older woman, she was upholding her side of the agreement. Discussing the matter in a public area with her best friend was probably not the most responsible thing to do. Plus, it was hardly as if she knew what to tell him. Things were going great but their situation was temporary, and she hadn't wanted to give it any further thought yet. It was all too fragile, too small to expose it to August and his size nines.

“Yes, Emma.”

“Your wisdom is infinite, so please enlighten me if you will. Where are we exactly, August?” the blonde skillfully deflected.

“We are at the airport, Emma.” The pilot waved at the tarmac they currently overlooked, pointing out the planes to his friend. 

“And what are we doing in the airport, August?”

“We are having a friendly drink, catching up! I feel like we haven’t talked in ages ever since you’ve shacked up with the Evil Queen, have fallen prey to her evil bewitching ways and become her willing victim. Does the Savior need saving? Has she cast a spell on you?”

“First of all, how many times… Don’t call me that, you ass. Second of all, there is no shacking up. Third of all, she is not evil. Well, not unless I… Anyway. Fourth of all… Fine, she is bewitching I’ll give you that,” Emma ticked off on her fingers. 

“And by the way, I am a very willing victim. No ‘but I’m a real boy’ rescue required.” She just couldn’t help herself, she just loved teasing him. “However, this is not the matter at hand. What are we doing at the airport, August?”

“We are waiting for Ruby’s plane to land,” the dark-haired man muttered in his pint glass.

"And why are we waiting for Ruby's plane to land, August? I will tell you why, shall I? We are waiting for Ruby's plane because you told her that you needed her, that your ass was dragging like a tired old dog after barely three weeks of separation. Yet, you happily sit here and pontificate about relationships being a bitch and concentrating, and I don't know what else. You go on about how it's better to keep the blood flowing up to my brain, but you are very happy with yours all flowing to little Woody down there."

“Its name is not _Woody_ , and it's not small! Besides you’re a woman, Em. It’s different.” August whined.

“August, with all the love I have for you… I don’t want to know what you call it. Or how big it is. I am very happy with the fact that the last time I saw it, we were eight and skinny-dipping.” The blonde shuddered at the thought.

"How is it different? Do you think there is no blood flowing down there for us too? Either you are being a moron, which is likely in fairness to you, or you have so little clue about the female body that I don't know how you can satisfy Ruby…"

“Louboutins. In the unlikely event of ‘in-flight turbulences’, I make up for it by buying her shoes.”

Before Emma could even recover from the strange turn of the conversation and the over-sharing, a familiar voice resonated in the airport bar and August soon found himself engulfed in a sea of red before being kissed senseless.

“Hi baby!” the tall and skimpily-clad redhead grinned at her husband.

"And hello to you too, Rubes" Emma jumped in. She loved winding her friends up, and August was ripe for the picking.

As expected, she received a playful but determined shove from August and a bear hug from his wife. It was so good to see her again.

“So Pinocchio tells me you're in love with one of your instructors, Emma? That while he goes to bed early every night, you’re shacking up with a Latina beauty, far in the desert where no one can hear you scream?”

“Pinocchio is a pathological liar, Ruby. It’s in the name, he can’t help it. For the last time, there is no shacking up! And August? What the actual fuck?”

“Emma, I didn't tell her that. Ruby, I can't believe you said that. That was a secret.”

"Also, Emma… I must have missed the part where you vehemently denied the "in love" part, did I? Or the part about the screaming, come to think of it. Did I miss both?" Even beside the sun, Ruby's shit-eating grin would have been blinding, her wide innocent-looking brown eyes fooling a grand total of zero people. 

“Come on, lovebirds. Let’s go. Things to do, people to see.” Emma swirled the end of her hot chocolate in her cup and got up purposefully, eager to avoid to subject and to hide her blushing. The redhead hadn’t been there five minutes and already she had pried her wide open.

"Or things to see, people to do…" Ruby taunted. With a squeal, she took off at a sprint towards the exit, Emma in hot pursuit. August dragged his wife’s luggage behind him as he made his way out of the terminal building, laughing and shaking his head at the childishness of it all. He loved it when his family was reunited.

 

\-----------------------

Lieutenant Emma Nolan was seething as she marched towards her motorbike, her feet stomping on the paved ground. The scoldings from her superior officers, she could take. The disciplinary measures, she could handle. Being humiliated in public, being taken as a “textbook example of what NOT to do” set her temper flaring and her blood boiling. 

_The moment of choice -- Swan is defensive. She has a chance to bug out right here...._

_Better to retire and save your plane than force a bad position. Stay in the diamond another three seconds, the bandit will blow you out of the sky…_

_What were you thinking here, Swan?_

_Big gamble with a sixty million dollar plane!_

_Unfortunately, the gamble worked, the bandit never gets a clean shot..._

Huntsman’s whisper of “Gutsiest move I ever saw” was an insignificant comfort.

How dare they? How dare she? How dare Regina look her in the eye and treat her this way? Yes, they had agreed and been rather successful at hiding their blossoming relationship from the rest of the people on base. She understood this meant no favouritism, and she expected nothing less from the trained consummate professionals that both she and Regina were. What had just occurred however had left her dumbfounded and in need of major release. They had taken her apart, her and her entire MiG encounter. The hot shower she had just taken before changing into her trademark dark skinny jeans and brown leather jacket over a white tank top had done little to alleviate the tension knotting her shoulders and back.

Digging into her jeans pockets for her keys, she heard the unmistakable clacking of Regina’s heels hurrying behind her. 

“Lieutenant!”

How that woman could sustain that kind of pace in those shoes was beyond her. She could probably race her over 100 metres and put up a good fight. Regardless, Emma was so not in the mood. Ignoring Regina’s pleas for her to stop, she straddled her bike and secured her helmet under her chin.

“Swan!”

Regina had reached her and was glaring at her, a mixture of anger and something else Emma could not quite decipher in her dark eyes. Her jaw was clenched to the point of teeth grinding, and the vision angered the blonde even further. How fucking dare she look like the wronged party? How dare she look outraged? They had made a mockery of Emma, her and Gandalf and she dared chase her to berate her even further? 

_Screw that._

“Lieutenant! My review of your performance was right on, in my professional opinion…”

Inserting her key into the ignition and turning it, Emma obnoxiously revved the engine to cover the sound of Regina’s voice. 

“Sorry, I can’t hear you” the blonde shouted, pointing her index finger to her ear level and shaking her head in mock regret and with that parting shot, then gunned the Panigale away from Regina and her recriminations. 

 

\-----------------------

Emma pulled up to the curb in front of her living quarters, killed the engine and dismounted her bike. Kicking the stand down angrily before undoing the helmet strap, she turned her body in the direction she had just come from, the sound of a vehicle travelling at high speed reaching her ears. A few seconds later, none other than Regina’s navy Mercedes pulled up behind her, brakes screeching. If the woman had looked angry when they left the base, she was apoplectic now. She got out of the car, the driver’s door nearly coming off its hinges and advanced on Emma, their noses now almost touching.

“Jesus! And you call me reckless? When I fly, my crew and my plane come first.”

“I'm gonna finish my sentence, Lieutenant Nolan. My review of your performance was right on. I see some real genius in your flying, but I can't say that in there. I don't want anyone to know...”

Regina’s sentence was cut short by the hard pressing of thin lips against her own, hands grasping the back of her neck hard and fingers running through her dark tresses. Reaching for the taunt body and wrapping her arms around the pilot’s waist Regina deepened the kiss, her tongue begging for entrance which Emma granted immediately before biting her bottom lip. Hard. The blonde broke the kiss with a moan, dropped her helmet onto her bike’s seat and dragged Regina towards the front door. Blindly reaching for her keys, she kicked the door open and both of them stumbled inside, Emma’s mouth mapping a tortuous path from Regina’s neck up to her earlobe with urgency.

Unable to break contact with the brunette, Emma pushed her unsteadily towards her bedroom where her perfectly good bed was awaiting them. She pushed Regina onto the soft mattress and crawled on top of her, covering her body with frenzied kissed on the way back to her mouth.

“Wait! Emma, wait…”

At Regina's protest, Emma stopped her ministrations, the reality of what they were about to do and their respective states of mind hitting her right in the face. She sat back on her haunches, her hands immediately leaving the shirt buttons they had been fighting with.

“Regina… God, I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“Sssh… Emma.” Regina soothed, running a tender hand over the blonde’s jawline and cupping her chin, capturing distraught green eyes with her own. “Trust me, this is ok. This is more than ok. I want this as much as you do. Just… not like this.”

“Yeah…” the younger woman replied sheepishly. “Angry sex is totally hot but maybe we should keep that for another time, huh? I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities to try it out…”

“Here is the cocky naval aviator I know. Welcome back Lieutenant… Presumptuous aren’t we?”

“Am I? Are you really saying this is a one-time thing?”

She didn't think so and Regina's barely hidden smile was all the proof she needed. A brazen grin gracing her lips, Emma resumed her interrupted task. Undoing the white shirt buttons, her hands then cupped Regina's breasts over her bra, fingers teasing her nipples before swiping her tongue over the hardening buds. 

Regina moaned with pleasure and Emma, emboldened by her lover's reaction, unzipped the pencil skirt hugging Regina's hips and pulled it off over her smooth legs, leaving the older woman in nothing but a matching blue lace underwear set. Regina was simply stunning, her olive skin unmarred. Emma paused to commit the sight to memory and unclasped her bra, discarding it carelessly to the side of the bed before bending down again to suck one nipple into her mouth, her hand caressing the other and pinching it slightly. She briefly wondered how hard she could make them but stored that thought for another time. There were more pressing matters to attend to if the brunette’s impatient groan was any indication. 

Emma’s hot mouth on her chest, her breasts and now descending towards her navel, lips and tongue trailing over every inch of skin, skimming over her navel before gently biting her hipbone had Regina writhe in frustration. The torture was delicious and had she not been so worked up by their argument earlier, Regina would have certainly appreciated Emma’s efforts a lot more than she did now.

Digging her fingers into the blond mane hovering over her tight stomach, she gently but firmly guided Emma’s head to where she needed her the most. With a wide grin and staring into Regina’s eyes, Emma hooked her thumbs in the waistband of Regina's panties and pulled them over her tanned legs. Unable to resist any longer, she tentatively licked the already wet folds in front of her, savouring Regina’s taste for the first time and moaned in appreciation.

Regina’s hips lifted off the mattress at the touch and Emma dipped her tongue into her centre, lapping at the wetness and gathering the brunette’s juices before swallowing.

At Regina’s increasing bucking, Emma laid her arm across Regina’s stomach to keep her down. She softly circled her clit with her tongue and ran her other hand along the engorged folds, pushing two fingers inside as deeply as she could.

Emma reveled in how tight she was, how her muscles gripped her fingers, how intense the sensation of being inside Regina felt and loving every second, every whimper, ever moan coaxed out of her lover.

She fucked the older woman steadily for a few more moments before increasing the speed, driving Regina higher and higher until she came with a loud cry and what Emma thought might have been her name. She could not say for certain, the thighs clenching and spasming around her ears impairing her hearing somewhat.

Emma was not finished, however, and as the brunette came down from her orgasm, Emma kissed her clit one last time before making her way back up Regina's body. Hovering over Regina, she added a third finger and resumed fucking her slowly but deeply, staring into brown eyes darkened by lust.

Regina curled her fingers into Emma's mane and pulled her down into a toe-curling kiss that left the blonde reeling. Lifting her pelvis, Emma added her weight, the power of her hips to the fingers pushing harder and faster into Regina. Her own center now stimulated Emma groaned with need, every thrust sent her closer to the edge as well. She had never felt as aroused in her life, Regina's whimpers urging her on. Blood was rushing through her ears and she broke the kiss, muffling her own moans against her lover's shoulder.

Regina let go of Emma’s hair and reaching back blindly, clasped her hands over the top of the headboard, grounding herself and using it as leverage to push her body impossibly closer to Emma’s. She felt her orgasm taking hold of her body for the second time and cried out, the sound the only incentive needed for the blonde to allow her own release. Spent, Emma collapsed over Regina’s body, a blissful smile on her face. She kissed the chest underneath her lips, savouring the salty taste of the brunette’s skin mixing with her juices on her tongue. 

 

\-----------------------

Regina had yet to open her eyes as she sought to recover from another earth-shattering orgasm. Her body was still shivering despite the mild temperature in the room. She had lost count of how many times she had come hours and hours ago but her blonde lover was as wild and hedonistic in bed as she was out of it. Tiringly stroking the blonde's mated hair away from her face, she finally felt Emma shift from her chest to rest her upper body beside her, her open-mouthed pants the only sound breaking the silence. 

The last two days had been a whirlwind for both women. After their first night together, Regina had roused alone in Emma's bed, a paper airplane shaped note on the pillow beside her. The blonde was apologizing for not waking her up and advising her she had to get to class. Regina had smiled at her lover's thoughtfulness. That night however, they had ridden back to Regina's and after an evening of grilled chicken salad, chilled white wine and soft music, they had retreated to the master bedroom and not emerged for the weekend, only getting up to attend to their most basic physiological needs, which for Emma apparently involved the inhalation of grilled cheese sandwiches... 

“You know, I've always wanted to fly... ever since I first saw a jet when I wasn’t old enough to walk. Or at least, that's what my mother always told me. I wanted to fly jets, then I wanted F/A-18s, then I wanted to fly off carriers, and then I wanted Top Gun.”

Emma’s hand moved to the underside of Regina’s breast and caressed it lightly, moving towards but not touching the tightening skin of her nipple. She ran the tip of her finger around it with slightly more determination, never tiring of the sight of the pebbled skin before her.

Regina opened her eyes and smiled sleepily at her, catching the teasing hand between her own and kissing every digit lazily before dropping it back to her chest. "And now?”

“And now I want you.”

Regina’s face was relaxed and her back was slightly arching to meet the blonde’s touch. Her skin was flawless and Emma wanted nothing more than to map every inch of it with her fingers, her palms, her nose, her mouth.

“Do you always get what you want, Lieutenant?”

“I don't know yet” Emma grinned before taking the nipple in her mouth and teasing it with her tongue once more. She was eager to see how hard she could get it before Regina begged her to focus her attention lower.

Emma was resting on her side, legs entwined with her lover, the hand not supporting her head tracing mindless patterns on the olive chest underneath her fingers. The setting sun was casting an orange glow across the bed and the perfect body she was half lying over. Regina’s beauty was almost ethereal, otherworldly in this light and Emma wanted to drink it all in, etching the moment in her memory for ever.

It had been so long since she had felt this peaceful and at ease with someone. Her mind was at rest, her body sated and humming. Her ministrations had the brunette close her eyes and she let out a contended sigh.

She had never been one for much quiet reflexion or introspection, finding more solace and purpose in action than in the depths of the dark thoughts she strived to avoid most of the time. Yet this place, this woman underneath her were pulling her in, whispering chances of haven in the storm, comfort, acceptance and home. They were calling out to her to stop chasing the ghosts of a past that was not hers, the ghosts of a redemption that would not come and to start living her life for herself.

Regina’s voice interrupted her musings.

“Have you ever thought about killing another human being?”

Emma raised her eyebrows in surprise, her gaze drifting back up to the brunette’s face and settling on the dark pools that were softly questioning her.

“I have not had the desire to do so since that little creep Walsh in high school, no” Emma deflected. The cocking of Regina’s head told her that this time the brunette was not going to let her escape as easily as she had at the poolside. She stilled her movements and sighed. “About as much as they think about killing me.”

“Does it bother you?”

Emma chuckled in disbelief. “What’s with the inquisition, Regina?”

At the brunette’s slightly mollified look, Emma relented. She was never going to build anything with anyone if she didn’t open up and she had not met anyone she had wanted to share parts of herself with as much as Regina since August. With August though, they barely needed to talk. They were living it together. "The danger? Death? Of course, I think about it. But we all know the rules... That's the deal. That's why you're up there. It's them or me. That's the price."

Emma drew away slightly and carefully looked at the woman before her. Regina had stiffened in her arms, averted her eyes and it suddenly dawned on Emma that maybe the brunette was projecting. “It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

At the lack of response from the flight instructor, Emma brushed a lock of hair away from Regina’s gorgeous face.

“Why?” she asked softly “You're part of it. Everybody dies. Most people don't get to die for something.”

“Is this what you want, Swan? Die a martyr? A rebel with a cause?” the brunette angrily bit back and Emma could have sworn that for a second she glimpsed a flash of hurt in her lover’s eyes.

“You don't want to confront it, do you? You want to keep it all clean, cerebral... velocity vectors, wing-load diagrams... You use your mind to keep things at a distance. Do you ever just let go, Regina?”

Still, the brunette remained silent and Emma shifted back to lie on her back beside her, severing the soothing physical contact she had been basking in.

“You know what really scares me? Living too long. Losing my brains, my physical abilities. Sitting in a room with my hands in my lap, watching daytime TV.”

Regina scoffed at that and turned her head to finally look at Emma, her hand reaching for the dog tags around Emma’s neck and running her fingers over the indentations.

“You don't believe any of this. You don't think you'll ever die,” Regina retorted.

Emma shuffled again, taking Regina’s hand in hers to emphasize her point. She could not help it, the excitement of flying was seeping through her voice and eyes once more.

“But that’s exactly it, you see? When I'm up there, I'm cheating death every second. I'm subverting all laws... gravity... whatever. I'm skating the edge of it.”

“Winston Churchill.”

“What?”

“What he said..."There's nothing so exhilarating as being shot at without result."

“Regina, all you've got is one life. I guess it's worth about the same to everybody. You ever see someone after their partner has died? I watched my mother die. Cancer. She had a long time to think about it, to think about her broken heart and my father’s absence. She had a long time to think about the David Nolan shaped hole in her very being. They say you reach an agreement with death. Come to accept the fact that pretty soon you won't be here. I didn't see that. She... She was very brave... Braver than I am. You go up there, there isn't time to think. When you're in the air and doing something really dangerous, you can look ahead... maybe ten seconds. That's your whole future. That's as far as it goes. But imagine what those seconds are worth. If you make a mistake, you're just a smudge on the ground.”

“What if you kill yourself? Think of everything you'll miss.”

“There’s a lot of stuff I don't know about... Fine wine... great art... the opera. I guess if I live long enough, I'll get to it. If I don't, I'll never miss it.” Emma shrugged.

Regina could no longer contain her emotions and released the tags with a huff before abruptly pushing the bed sheets away from her still naked body and getting up. Unconcerned with her state of undress, she marched to the wall-length window facing her bed. For once, contemplating the sunset over the desert stretching in front of her eyes did not bring her any form of quietude.

“Are you really that brave?” she shook her head “Actually, no. Are you really that idiotic?”

“Idiotic how?” the blonde frowned before getting up to join her lover.

The mood had shifted so fast that it made her head spin and the conversation was getting out of hand even faster. The last thing she wanted was to upset the brunette but she had always been honest with her, with herself and she refused to sugar-coat anything. She lived with a stark reality on a daily basis, and if anything was to happen between them beyond the next few weeks, beyond graduation, she needed the older woman to understand. Maybe she was clumsy. Maybe she was approaching it all wrong. Maybe she had forgotten how to open up, but she was trying. 

Regina angrily ran her shaking hand through her dishevelled hair and turned around, surprised to find herself in the blonde’s personal space. Needing to put some distance between them, she raised her hands and clasping them over the pilot’s biceps she slowly but firmly pushed her away.

“You think like a child, Emma! You think that if you died nobody would miss you? You think that if you died, somehow it wouldn’t matter?”

“I’m not going up there to die, Regina.”

Despite Emma's best efforts, her frustration was bleeding in her voice. She inhaled slowly in order to calm herself and started to reach for the Latina before she thought better of it. Regina was clearly distressed, and she did not wish to add any fuel to that particular fire.

“All I am saying is that I am conscious of the risks, of my mortality.”

"No, maybe you're not going up there to die," Regina exploded. "You cannot deny however that you are chasing something that you will either find or die trying, and you do not seem to care which outcome prevails! August would miss you. God, I would miss you! Just because people have abandoned you in the past does not mean I will. Just because your father chose a vocation over his family, just because you mother chose her grief over you does not mean that I am unable to put you first. You are an ass, Emma Swan! You are a fucking ass and if you think it doesn’t matter you are wrong. Because for my sins, I am falling for an ass.”

The swearing was so alien for the blonde that it startled her enough to not fully process Regina’s words for a few seconds.

“Falling? Wha..”

“Yes, you complete and utter idiot. Falling. For you. Because quite clearly bad girls with a death wish are my thing now. That’s what I didn’t want them to see.”

Emma found it difficult to breathe. Sure, over the last few weeks their relationship had taken a turn and her purely physical desire for the flight instructor had turned to respect, admiration and a strange but deep-seated fondness. The brunette had pushed back so much at every opportunity, derailed her efforts to woo her at every turn and kept such a cool and collected mask in their interactions that the blonde was blindsided.

She could see that her speechlessness was sending all the wrong signals, yet she could neither find the words nor the voice to adequately respond to Regina's admission. The brunette's walls were coming back up with every second the blonde remained silent, and Emma reacted in the only way she felt able to. She closed the gap between them and held the other woman tightly against her, capturing her luscious lips between her own before running her tongue over them, demanding an entry that was immediately granted. Running strong hands over the woman's back and hips to finally cup her divine ass and pull her closer, she kissed her with all she had. Backing Regina towards the bed, she gave her protesting lover a shove when she felt could go no further and Regina fell, the murderous glint in her eye soon forgotten as Emma flipped her to lie onto her front before crawling over her naked body, worshipping every inch of skin she found with her lips and tongue. Moaning at the sensations their naked bodies, their naked souls touching, merging were triggering she pouring her heart into every single kiss and nip, every touch and lick in the hope that Regina would understand. She may not be able to voice her feelings just yet but she sure as Hell could show her.


	7. Let me see you stripped down to the bone

  
_“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter—_  
_they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long..._  


_Sylvia Plath - The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath_

 

* * *

 

Training was half over, there were just four weeks left before graduation and the competition for first place and the trophy remained close after nineteen hops. Huntsman and Hook were in the lead, but Emma and August were merely two points behind. It was all still up for grabs, and the battle was raging. 

Emma, August, Hood and Butch were up, and the blond pilot was determined to make up the point difference and regain the lead from Humbert.

This morning's exercise was going well, and both Super Hornets were chasing the two bandits that had just appeared to their right until Gandalf’s voice came through the radio system and all of a sudden, they knew they were in for an interesting morning. They knew Seahawk was up there with them, but now they were after their top two instructors.

As the bandits split, Gandalf taking a hard right, Seahawk a hard left, a brief conversation between the two pilots decided on their strategy to take them down: Hood would sweep left and pursue Montoya, Swan would hang back and cover his wing. Emma grew impatient rather quickly though and instructed Pinocchio to keep an eye out for Gandalf. The last thing she wanted to be was blindsided while covering someone else. 

Suddenly, she spotted the second plane.

“Pinocchio, there's Gandalf. Three o'clock low.”

Already knowing where this conversation was going to go, August warned his best friend. “We're Hood's cover, Swan. Don’t do it. Don’t be greedy.”

“Swan? Don't you leave me! Mutual support, man!”

Emma scanned the skies around her, taking in their respective positions. Fuck it, it was time to score some points. Pinocchio’s and Hood’s pleas to stay with her cover fell on deaf ears. Hood was okay and able to handle himself.

“Hood, you're looking good. Pinocchio, I'm going after Gandalf. I want him.”

“Goddamn you, Swan!”

The slew of insults coming from the other jet and August’s resigned yet angry sigh deterred her none and soon enough, Gandalf was streaking across the sky with Swan close behind. Hard left, hard right, rolling into vertical, flipping into a dive… Nothing was shaking Emma, she was staying with him yet could not quite get a lock on him. McKellen was taunting her, and she knew it. She was going to show him what she was made off. She was so intent, so focused on nailing Gandalf that the continuous beeping tone indicating a lock came as a surprise to her. It certainly was not her on Gandalf…

“Pinocchio, check our tail!”

“Shit, there’s Seahawk!”

Emma was stunned. She had been tricked like a fucking rookie…

“Bingo, Swan is dead. You walked right into that one, kid. You’re out of there.” Seahawk said.

Story of her life, really. August angrily unhooked his mask from one side, letting it hang on the other and slammed his hand against his helmet-covered forehead.

“The Defense Department regrets to inform you your son died of stupidity. Thanks, Swan.”

“Knock it off, ladies and gentlemen. Let's go home. Gandalf has the lead.”

 

\------------------

An hour later and Emma was still seething. After a quick shower that had not helped her calm down whatsoever, she and August had opted for a much-needed beer at the Officers Club.

Huntsman had been there in the locker room as they had entered and it seemed that word of what had happened had traveled fast. He had lectured her, firmly taken Hood’s side. "Swan... It's not your flying, it's your attitude. The enemy's dangerous, but right now you're worse. Dangerous and foolish. You may not like who's flying with you, but whose side are you on?"

Her best friend had just left to go and fetch Ruby and Emma had called Regina to see if she wanted to join them. If she was going to get drunk, they might as well make a night out of it. It would be an excellent opportunity for her to unwind and for the two women to meet as well. She was already nursing her second bottle in silence sitting at a table on the sun-drenched terrace when McKellen walked by.

“You know, that was the best flying I've seen in a long time.” The flight instructor pulled a chair opposite Emma and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table and his piercing blue eyes scrutinized Emma before he continued. “Right up to that part where you got killed.”

Emma took a swig of beer and swallowed hard, trying so far unsuccessfully to wash down the taste of bitterness and disappointment. “I lost.”

“Of course you did. I said you were a great flyer, not a smart one. You fly recklessly. Great instincts. No discipline. In that ambush today, you followed your emotions instead of your wingman. Of course you got killed... and deservedly so. It was a foolish mistake. In battle, it gets people killed.”

Emma nodded and stared at her beer, her nails worrying the edges of the label.

“Instincts are not enough, Swan.” Gandalf sighed. “Why do you have to do everything the hard way? Discipline is what protects us. It is what protects you.”

The grey-haired man pushed his chair back and got up, smoothing his uniform trousers unconsciously. Pulling his sunglasses from his shirt pocket, he placed them over his eyes before looking out towards a couple of planes landing in the distance.

"Despite what you may think, today was a good day. You learned something. You lost, and you're still alive to tell the tale. And you lost your wingman. That's a cardinal sin... Don't ever do it again."

Gandalf rested a weathered hand over Emma’s shoulder as he moved away. The gesture was small but maybe that was all Emma needed and for the first time in the last two hours, she felt her body relax somewhat, some of the tension in her upper back evaporating into the dry Nevada air.

The label on her bottle was nothing but a ball of soggy mush on the table by the time August reappeared and slumped into the chair Gandalf had vacated a few minutes before.

“Ruby will be ready in five. Something to do with outfit and shoes coordination. Everything is red, I don't understand how it can be difficult to coordinate but what do I know? When is Regina getting here?” His blue eyes sparkled with mischief and Emma gave him a small smile, appreciating his attempt at levity.

“She’ll meet us at the Rabbit Hole. Better to be off base, you know? We should go soon or else I’ll be over the limit.” Emma brought the bottle to her lips and tilted it back, swallowing the last of the warming beer.

The two friends got up, and August slung his arm over his best friend's shoulder as they walked towards the parking lot.

“At least, Gandalf got Huntsman before he got us. We've still got a shot at it.”

“That was stupid, Pinocchio. I know better than that. That will never happen again.”

August took in the stricken face looking up at him and engulfed the blonde in a tight and warm hug before pulling back slightly, his hands still firmly gripping her biceps. Staring into those limpid green eyes, he shook her gently as if to emphasize his point. 

"I know... I KNOW." With a broad grin and a wink, he resumed his prior hold on Emma's shoulder and declared it time to go and meet "their women." Emma addressed a silent prayer to whatever deities existed that "their women" never heard him utter these words. She slugged him for good measure, though.

 

\------------------

Some malevolent entity had obviously decided to take their foul mood on Emma, there was no other explanation for what the blonde was enduring today. First, Montoya getting on her six then Huntsman declaring himself the chairman of the ‘Emma Swan Appreciation Society’ (not) and finally, the fearsome Booth / Lucas duo tag-teaming to see who could embarrass her the most.

They had ridden to the Rabbit Hole, and it had been love at first sight between Regina and Ruby. August put it down to the now infamous Louboutins but the gleam in both the women's eyes as they fronted a common assault on the pair of pilots pointed their future conversation topics towards more nefarious topics.

August had bailed out on her, claiming he needed the bathroom, a beer and then to see if the piano in the corner was in tune. He had left a defenseless Emma to fend for herself with a chuckle and a “good luck, buddy” and the blonde was not faring well. She had no idea what would be more mortifying: joining August in his enthusiastic rendition of “Great balls of fire” or staying at the table and subjecting herself to Ruby’s good-natured ribbing. Three villains, one helpless hero…

“So, Emma… Has August shared examples of your shameful past with Regina yet?” The redhead sitting beside her goaded, pulling on her beer and slapping her thigh.

“No, Ruby. Funnily enough most of the time, August is on my side and the secrets I kept for him, he is keeping for me…”

Ruby spluttered and coughed before wiping her mouth with the back of her fingers. “Oh, you poor innocent soul. Two words for you. Admiral's daughter. He told me all about the time you went ballistic with Kathryn Midas.”

“Did he? Great.” She must remember to kill August later. Even avoiding looking in Regina’s direction, Emma caught the interested raised eyebrow across from the table and the smirk threatening to split the brunette’s face.

“Swan… He tells me about all of them. He tells me how my angel Pinocchio goes home early for church while you go home with the hot women.”

“Thank you, Ruby. Because I would hate to cause you any kind of bodily harm, I will leave you two alone despite my better judgement." A blushing Emma got up and slid across the booth, kissing the top of Regina's head before warning her. "Please don't believe a single word that comes out of this wench's mouth.. I'm gonna go and embarrass myself with Pinocchio for a while. It can’t possibly be worse than this.”

The two women looked on as Emma made her way to the piano, beer in hand. Regina narrowed her eyes, she could have sworn that there was an extra sway to the blonde’s hips that was there just for her. She shook her head in disbelief and turned towards Ruby who was observing her, smile wide and welcoming.

“Regina… I'd love to be able to warn you off about Swan, but I just love her to death. I've known Emma since we were teenagers. One thing is for certain. There are hearts breaking wide open all over the world tonight.”

“Really? Why?”

"Unless you are a fool, that girl is off the market." Ruby reached and patted Regina's hand. She is 100% in love with you." 

At Regina's chuckle and slight blush creeping over her cheeks, the redhead relented and diverted her attention to the poorly singing duo. It seemed that Emma didn't need anyone else to shame herself after all.

“Hey, Pinocchio, you big stud! Take me to bed or lose me forever!”

“Show me the way home, honey.”

 

\------------------

“Swan, you big stud… Take me to bed or lose me forever…”

Emma burst into laughter as she pulled Regina closer to her body. After leaving the other couple, they had taken a ride out to the desert to take in the sunset. Emma was not tiring of the experience, each day the reds and oranges merged into a pattern different from the day before, the colors duller or more vibrant depending on the cloud cover. She loved the daily spectacle, so different out here than it was on the beach in San Diego when she was growing up and if Regina was okay to indulge her, she was going to take full advantage of it.

Regina had obviously had an ulterior motive, however, and they had spent most of their time out here straddling the Panigale facing each other in a heavy make out session reminiscent of teenage behavior. Emma loved every second of it. She just couldn't get enough of Regina and every touch, every breath upon her skin was magical, sunset or no sunset.

“Show me the way home, honey” Emma parroted.

She knew Regina was joking, that she was good-naturedly mocking her friends and in her own slightly intoxicated mind probably doing a fairly accurate impression of Emma’s ridiculous flirting techniques and she relished the fact that Regina seemed to finally let go some of that stiffness that so often characterized her.

"Lieutenant Nolan. For your own sake, do not ever… and I mean ever… call me honey," the brunette warned, but the bite in her words was severely lacking.

There were so many possibilities for the blonde to tease… her girlfriend? She guessed they hadn't talked about it but in her mind, it felt right. For all intents and purposes, Regina had all but confessed her feelings and Emma could feel the words fighting to cross her lips as well whenever they were in each other's company, which was more and more often.

Regina's fingers running lightly under her tank top and dipping beneath the waistband of her jeans were too distracting though and the blonde soon lost the trail of where her teasing was going to lead. As the deft fingers undid her belt buckle before focusing on her jeans button, Emma's mind went blank and she once more kissed the brunette's plump lips with renewed fervor.

She gasped as she felt those same fingers running along her side, as if attempting to decipher by touch alone the scripture inked there. Emma reluctantly broke the kiss and leaned her forehead against Regina, seeking the strength to lift the veil she had cast over her past a little more.

“When I was a kid, my dad used to read to me. He used to read anything, fairytales, poems, Calvin and Hobbes, science magazines, MLK speeches… Anything I could get my hands on I would get him to read to me before I went to bed, even long after I had learnt to read myself. It was our ‘daughter and father time’ and my mother was banned from my room at bedtime.”

Emma smiled at the memories and looked into Regina’s eyes. Seeing nothing but curiosity and understanding in the dark pools in front of her, she ploughed on.  
“It’s Danish. My tattoo, it’s a verse from his favorite poem, ‘Where do the wild swans go?’. It says ‘bort! Bort! Ingen hved hvorhen’, which means "far, Far. Whither, none may know’”

Regina's fingers had stilled over the ink and her other hand was now clasping Emma's, giving the blonde the space and support she needed.

"I don't even remember how we stumbled across Ludwig Holstein. It must have been from a poetry book I had borrowed from the school library. There was this poem in it and when he first read it to me, we both fell in love with it. You see, my dad always called me his duckling, maybe I was an ugly baby I don't know," Emma chuckled, "although I doubt that very much. I think I was probably very cute even as a newborn…"

Regina smiled at Emma’s efforts to lift the mood somewhat, it was painfully obvious that the blonde struggled with stripping herself bare and she didn’t want to interrupt her for fear of the blonde clamming up again. She gave her hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement and Emma thanked her silently before continuing her story.

"Anyway... The poem is about this inquisitive child who keeps asking their father where the swans, the clouds, the days go, where WE go in the end. And the father keeps saying ‘far, far but nobody knows where'. Dad always said it reminded him of me and when he died… I just had to have a permanent memory of that. So that's the meaning behind both my tattoos and my call sign too. The inquisitive little duckling that grew into a swan and is still asking her father where we all go, where he went…"

Suddenly, the blonde’s body seemed smaller, her frame narrower and her face so much younger and unsure. Emma hated looking weak and the magnitude of the moment hit Regina head on. Her heart swelled at the realization and all she could do was cup the blonde’s chin in her free hand and lift her head to meet her teary gaze.

"You are a beautiful swan, Emma. You are not lost. You are noble and majestic and kind. Your father would be proud of how his duckling grew, I promise you that. I love that you honor his memory but you do not live in his shadow, do you understand me? You are strong and generous and I love you. I love you so much."

And just like that, a weight was lifted from the orphan’s shoulders and she smiled at the woman in front of her who had seen her naked both physically and figuratively and had not found her wanting, had accepted her, all of her. The woman who had chosen her and was choosing her still.


	8. Bad blood and ghosts wrapped tight around me

  


_“Men Far, vi selv, hvor gaar vi saa hen?_  
_Bort! Bort! Øjnene lukker vi,_  
_Hovedet bøjer vi, klagende sukker vi,_  
_bort! Bort! Ingen hved hvorhen.”_  


_"But Father, we ‒ where do we then go?_  
_Far, far. Our dim eyes veiling, ___  
_With bended head we go sighing, wailing_  
_Far, far. Whither, none may know."_

_Ludwig Holstein_

 

* * *

  

At first, all she could feel were the stones digging painfully into her back and the heavy weight on her torso. Although she had no idea of where she was exactly or what time it was, the dry and oppressing heat and the helmet, boots and flight suit clinging to her skin indicated both Nevada desert and mid afternoon. Focusing inwards, Emma took stock of what she did know.

Perspiration was dripping down her eyes, her vision too blurred to assess anything about her situation with any degree of certitude. Her lungs could not expand fully or fast enough. The strap on her helmet was cutting her windpipe. A raw, inhuman howling sound was ringing in her ears. Her throat was sore and dry, her tongue thick despite the salty and slightly viscous liquid running down into her mouth. Her legs were paralyzed under the same weight crushing her upper body. Her arms were cramping from holding on tight to a nylon harness, the straps cutting into the warm and sticky palm of her hands.

Slowly releasing her white-knuckle grip, Emma unbuckled her helmet before lifting her right hand into view. It was covered in dried blood. Suddenly, it all made sense again. Suddenly she remembered it all and the events of the last hour came rushing forth, unbidden and unwanted but sharp and vivid nonetheless.

_"This is hop 31. Two weeks to graduation."_  
_"The Top Gun trophy is still up for grabs."_  
_"The score is tied. Time for the big one."_  
_"Come one, Swan. Just a walk in the park."_  
_"That son of a bitch cut me off!"_  
_"Take the shot or get the hell out of there."_  
_"Fire or clear!"_  
_"We're in a jet wash. Shit!"_  
_"This is not good. We've got a flame-out."_  
_"Engine one is out... Engine two is out."_  
_"I'm losing control. I can't control it!"_  
_“Plane's coupling up! Plane's coupling up! This is not good, Swan!... We're low!”_  
_“3,000 feet.. 2,000 feet… Swan!”_

Suddenly she wished she could forget. Maybe if she squeezed her eyes shut hard enough it would all disappear, the entire ordeal would just vanish.

Her argument with Huntsman over their joint pursuit of Montoya. Huntsman in front of her, not taking his shot and blocking her. Huntsman finally giving up and pulling up. Her jet passing through his turbulence. The blast distorting the airflow to her left engine. The engine flaming out. Full thrust on the right engine, swinging the tail around in a yaw. Her slamming the stick to correct. 

Too late. 

The centrifugal force pinning her to the instrument panel. The plane spinning faster and faster, completely out of control. Pinocchio's frantic call for her to start the ejection procedure. Her desperate and ultimately unsuccessful attempts to reach for the lever and his reassurance that he could do it instead. The plane in an ever-increasing flat spin, like a giant frisbee.

Pinocchio yanking the ejection handle.

The canopy blasting away and in a split second, the sound of both their seats fired up by the rocket under their seats. Their parachutes deploying, her desperate calls for August that remain unanswered. Her constant efforts to guide her parachute as close to his as possible. 

His body hanging from the suspension lines like a rag doll.

The landing, her frantic unhooking from the risers in her parachute and run towards his motionless form. Her shaking his body, blowing air into his mouth, pressing again and again against his unresponsive chest. Her tears washing away some of the blood pooling on the side of his face, her hands soon covered too but caressing his forehead nonetheless, pushing non-existent hair from his eyes in a motion that willed itself to soothe him, yet could bring comfort to her only.

And there it was again, the unholy roar breaking her soul in two in the almost obscene silence of the desert. How could the air be so still when her world was crumbling down? Then came the realization that those animalistic sounds were coming from her own chest, that her throat was raw from her screaming the injustice of this world, her refusal to concede the inconceivable, her "sorry" to a man who would no longer hear it.

Emma did not know how much time she had spent like this, holding August to her, clinging to his body as if they were drowning. She did not know nor cared to know. August was dead. It took three paramedics to pry her away kicking and screaming from him and put her in a waiting helicopter.

 

\---------------

 

Emma had been released from the hospital a few hours earlier, yet the woman could not bring herself to leave the building. Her best friend was lying motionless on a slab on the other side of the wall, and she could not leave him there all alone.

Ruby had come and gone, her grief so palpable, her wailing cries so raw that they had pierced Emma’s very soul as they clung to each other as tightly as she had hung on to Pinocchio in the desert. They had both lost the best part of themselves today or so it felt.

Regina had come and offered to drive them both home. It wasn’t as if they were hanging around waiting for news the brunette has reasoned. August had been killed on impact or so the preliminary autopsy report stated. Emma believed it without a doubt. Objectively, she knew that she could not have possibly heard anything over the roar of the engines and the clanking of the canopy releasing. Yet, the only sound that had been haunting her ears since they had airlifted them both was the sickening crash of a helmet against metal followed by a deafening silence coming from the radio.

The doctor in charge had prescribed Ruby a strong sedative and Regina had driven her back to rest, Emma refusing to join them. August needed her still, even if she had failed him in the biggest and worst way possible. Younger, he had been scared of the dark. Together, they had watched _The Neverending Story_ so many times the ribbon on the VHS had snapped in two. They had starred in their own quests to slay "the Nothing" and Emma had given him her prized possession: her own AURYN protective talisman that Santa Claus had brought her the year before. August had slept with it around his neck for six months, free of nightmares. But now, maybe they were there, maybe they had come back. Emma certainly felt as if they would all pounce on her and devour her the second she closed her eyes. 

In an effort to shed some of the tension she felt across her shoulders and back, she had just got up from the uncomfortable armchair she had sunk into and started to pace up and down the hospital corridor when Gandalf joined her.

“How do you feel?”

That was probably the most stupid question Emma had ever heard. At a loss how to even begin to voice what was churning inside her head, she settled for a non-committal "I'm fine". What did the man expect her to say, exactly?

“Pinocchio is dead.”

Emma stood corrected. THAT was the most stupid thing she had ever heard. She chuckled mirthlessly. “I know. I was there.”

“If you fly jets long enough, something like this happens to you. No one escapes it. It touches us all.”

Emma looked at the man in utter disbelief. “He was... my responsibility... my RIO.”

“I know Lieutenant. The first one kills you, but there'll be others, you can count on it.” Gandalf patted Emma on the shoulder awkwardly, sorrow and compassion lacing his voice and belying his words. “You've got to let him go, Swan. You’ve got to let him go.”

With one last look, McKellen left the pilot alone once more, her mind screaming, begging for any advice on how she could possibly even start to do such a thing.

 

\---------------

 

“This is it, then." Regina's soft voice pulled Emma from the catatonic state she had fallen back into after McKellen's departure. She opened her eyes, the stinging of her tears the only thing she could still feel in her spent body. The last few hours were nothing but a blur, and she would have thought time had stood still if it wasn't for the pile of tissues on the floor and the one she was absent-mindedly picking at between her fingers.

“The dark side. The price you pay for all the fun you're having. You knew about it, of course. Didn't you?”

“He was my best friend, my family. The brother I never had. A good guy... a great guy. It was my fault.”

“That's not what I hear.” Regina sat beside the blonde without touching her.

“Regina… I was flying... It was my responsibility.” Emma shook her head, impervious to any rational argument her girlfriend could put forward.

“You act like you didn't know one day this could happen.”

“Not to me, no. Not to him.” Emma closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall, her head repeatedly knocking against the plaster with a dull thud.

“You knew it. You all do. It's part of it. Maybe the most important part.”

"Regina, if you are here to take my mind off things, may I tell you that you are doing a pretty shitty job."

Regina took Emma's hand in hers and squeezed it tight, discarding the shredded tissue in the nearest trash can before pulling her towards her and enveloping the woman in a warm hug. Kissing her temple and wrapping her hand around the back of the blonde's head to keep her there, she rocked her in an attempt to soothe her girlfriend. Before Emma could break down again, Regina pulled away but clasped their hands tightly before giving her a sad smile.

“Come. Come with me, my love.”

 

\---------------

 

Regina's Mercedes pulled up into her driveway, and she switched off the ignition before looking at the distraught woman in the passenger seat. The ride back to her house had been silent but not uncomfortably so, the blonde resting her forehead on the window and contemplating the scenery in a daze. 

Loath to spook Emma, Regina gently laid a hand on the pilot’s thigh and waited.

Finally emerging from the almost impenetrable smog her mind had sunk into, Emma shook herself. "Where are we?” she asked bewildered. She had no recollection of the last half hour beyond being dragged out of the hospital morgue’s waiting room.

“We’re home, Emma.”

Home. As much as she liked the sound of it, Emma knew that home was not a geographical location. Home was a state of mind, a lack of restlessness. For so long, home had been the mischief in her best friend’s eyes, the smothering feeling of his long arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her a foot off the ground while she squealed for him to let her down. It was cold freshly squeezed lemonades shared on a starry night sitting in silence on Marco’s front porch, the only sound the crackling of the mosquitos losing the short fight against the killer machine. Home was August’s beaming smile and sparkling blue eyes as they rode their bikes with no destination in mind, with no other purpose than to experience the beauty of the scenery and the rush of the wind together, laughing like children.

Maybe home had taken a different meaning the last few weeks. Maybe the perspective of a different home had been visible on the horizon but right now? Right now all Emma knew was that the last of her childhood, the last of her innocence had been left in the skies over the Nevada desert. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, caressing August's dog tag and clinging to them as if her life depended on it. She shook her head.

“You don't have to do this.”

Regina got out of the car and rounded the front of the vehicle to open the passenger door. “Do what, try and comfort the woman I love?”

“I'm not good company. I should be alone.”

“I don't think so, but if that's what you want... You are welcome to the spare room. I am not letting you out of this house, Emma Swan. Not now, not at this hour and certainly not while you are in this state.”

Regina took hold of Emma's hand again and gently pulled her out of the car and to the front door, opening it before kicking her high-heels off with a satisfied sigh. It had been a long day, and her feet needed some much-deserved relief. Not bothering to put them away properly, she redirected her full attention to the blonde who hadn't moved since entering the house.

The brunette tenderly cupped both her hands around her exhausted girlfriend’s face and drew her into a hug. The blonde immediately burrowed her face in her neck, seeking comfort and closeness Regina was more than willing to give.

“I want it back.”

Emma’s voice was muffled by her shoulder but still understandable. Regina stroke her hair quietly, knowing that words would come when she was ready.

“Yesterday. I want it back. That’s what I want.”

Regina squeezed the blonde’s shoulders before cupping her chin and nudging her head far enough away to be able to look into bloodshot green eyes.

“Oh honey… I know you may not believe me right now but everything passes. It’s an immutable law of the Universe. This too... shall pass. I know you feel like the world is too small to contain your pain. That’s how you know that what the two of had was good, was worth it. All I ask of you right now is to acknowledge the flicker of light in the darkest recess of your heart that tells you it will not be forever. It will get better, my love.”

Wiping the silent tears off the blonde's red cheeks, Regina changed tack. She needed to bring Emma back from her near catatonic state. The woman was exhausted but Regina was certain that even if they went straight to bed, the blonde would not find her much-needed sleep, plagued by the dark thoughts that threatened to consume her whole.

“There’s a game I like to play. It's called "reality."

Emma frowned at the unexpected yet welcome change of conversation topic.

“How do you play reality?”

Leaning forward to kiss the blonde's cheek lightly, Regina chuckled. "It's strip reality, actually. It's like strip poker, only, without the bluffing.”

At Emma's small smile Regina continued, emboldened by the sudden glimmer of interest on her girlfriend's face.

“One person says something, anything and if the other person accepts that it's true, the one who says it gets to take one item of clothing off.”

"You're crazy."

Regina ignored the rebuttal.

“Do you want to play the game?”

Emma sighed and nodded, pulled in by her natural curiosity, the prospect of her girlfriend stripping but most of all by the desire to make Regina feel that her efforts were not in vain.

“How does it go?”

“It’s really simple, you say the truth. That’s it.”

Noting the blonde’s hesitation, Regina added “Go ahead. Don't be afraid. Just start with the truth that is most on your mind.”

Emma remained silent for a few moments and Regina was beginning to wonder if the blonde had changed her mind when the faintest sound broke the stillness in the room.

“Pinocchio is dead.”

Regina nodded. “True. Now you take something off.”

“Off me or off you?”

“That's up to you.”

Emma hesitantly took hold of the other woman’s black suit jacket’s lapels and peeled it off her shoulders before dragging it down her arms and off her body altogether, dropping it carelessly on the floor.

With a reassuring smile, Regina considered the best course of action. The aim of the game was to provide a safe space in which Emma could voice her sorrows, her fears and where Regina could listen and nudge the blonde gently out of the numbness that beleaguered her. She started slowly.

“It's dangerous... what you do is dangerous.”

At Emma's soft nod, the brunette reached behind the pilot's head, and one by one took out all the pins keeping her blond hair into a tight bun. Running her fingers through soft tresses, curling them loosely over her shoulders, Regina took a step forward and chastely kissed her tear-stained lips before retreating.

The blonde cleared her throat before muttering, her reddened eyes firmly planted on the floor. “It was my fault.”

At Regina’s continued silence, Emma lifted her gaze to take in her girlfriend. God knew the woman was gorgeous, standing in front of her open, offering her heart and all the comfort she could provide. Her mind still numb, she looked into her eyes and almost mechanically unbuttoned her white shirt, revealing Regina’s lace bra and olive skin.

“You can't bring him back.”

Without any hesitation, Regina proceeded to take off Emma’s uniform shirt.

“It was my fault.”

As Emma reached for her, Regina took a step back and raised both hands in protest.

“No. You have already used that. You forfeit your turn.”

Biting her bottom lips in thought, the brunette looked at Emma straight in the eye and poured all the certainty she could muster into her next statement.

“Your life goes on.”

Without waiting for Emma’s approval, she clutched the blonde’s T-shirt with both hands. Rather than struggle with it, Regina leaned in close, taking in the earthy smell of her girlfriend and in a bout of spontaneity bit the hem. At Emma’s gasp of surprise, she lifted her eyes back up, holding her gaze while she slowly tore at the garment, ripping it in the middle and off her body. Emma’s eyes darkened at the sight, her body responding to the game it was being subjected to.

With a small voice, she asked: "What does it mean?”

Regina shook her head. “That was a question, not a statement." With that, Regina took Emma's hand and guided it to the hidden zipper on the side of her own black skirt, encouraging the blonde to pull the tag down and let it drop to the ground.

“You didn't mean for it to happen. You had no choice. You'd do anything to take it back.”

Despite the circumstances, Emma let out a small laugh. “That's three things.”

"And that's one thing." Regina smiled back.

Looking intensely at the blonde to ascertain she was ok with what was unfolding, she reached for her belt and at Emma’s lack of protest unbuckled it and slowly slid it off. She then unzipped her pants, letting the material pool at her feet.

“You have one more.” The blonde said quietly.

“Your shoes… We forgot about the shoes.”

With a small smile, Emma bent down and unlaced her black dress shoes before kicking them off, the movement taking her dress pants with it. "You may as well get the socks for free," Emma shrugged before taking them off as well.

Standing back up and appraising the half-naked woman in front of her, Emma cocked her head as if pondering her next move.

“Now you owe me one.”

Stepping into the brunette, Emma ran her hands up the olive skin of Regina's back and upon reaching her destination unclasped her bra, the lace soft under her fingertips. Regina was standing still, and the blonde was entranced by the sight of the pebbling nipples peaking underneath the material before she shrugged it off.

Emma knew what Regina was offering. She was offering comfort, warmth and solace. She was offering her a home in her embrace. She was offering intimacy. She was offering sex. She was offering a modicum of control in a life that had spun out of it so abruptly. She was offering her body for Emma to lose herself in, to do what she wanted with. She was offering her heart for her to hide in and lick her wounds for as long as she needed. She was offering all that she was with no expectation of acceptance or refusal. She was baring her soul and flesh, leaving it to Emma to take whatever she needed.

The blonde's fingers were grazing the size of her breasts and Regina bit her lip not to moan. This was Emma's show now, Regina was satisfied that she had sufficiently coaxed her girlfriend out of her shell for her to take the lead in the evening's proceedings.

Peering into darkened pools of brown and holding her gaze, Emma let the wave of emotions that had been buried all day submerge her and engulf the both of them. The gift Regina was giving her, this unconditional love was overwhelming and grounding her at the same time. With a certainty she hadn't felt since her world shattered, she cupped the brunette's cheeks and stilled all movement. She would be damned if she spent one more moment without telling her how she felt.

“I love you. I love you, Regina Mills.”

Despite the liberating calm that washed over her soul at uttering the words, her primal desires soon took over. She sought a final nod of approval from the other woman before hooking her thumbs into the brunette's panties, kissing her way down her chest, her toned abdomen and dropping to her knees, her shaking fingers discarding the lacy material. She kissed the top of her pussy softly, almost reverently before standing back up and looking into Regina's eyes once more. The brunette had not yet recovered from the blonde's declaration, but Emma was already determined not only to tell her girlfriend how she felt but to show her too.

Emma captured those plump lips in a lingering kiss, revelling in the sensuality of it before letting go with a final peck. She abruptly bent her head and captured a nipple in her mouth, bathing it with her tongue while pinching the other lightly. A hand made its way down her back and down Emma's panties, a fingertip snaking into the dimple in her lower back, circling it slowly.

At Regina’s loud moan, the finger briefly dipped lower between her ass cheeks before retreating. Emma nipped at her throat, strong hands now gripping her hips in a desperate attempt to get the brunette closer before Regina felt herself being lifted off the ground as Emma carried her to the nearest vertical surface and pressed her hot naked skin against the cool glass of the living room window.

“God, I love how strong you are,” Regina purred, fastening her legs around the blonde’s narrow hips.

‘Yeah?” Emma hummed appreciatively at the compliment and pinned the brunette further, freeing one of her hands in the process and resuming her earlier explorations of the other woman’s folds. She could feel the heat pooling in her centre in response and Regina’s hand grabbing her by the back of the neck pulling her closer still, thrusting her tongue into Emma’s inviting mouth.

Their current position preventing her from entering Regina and fucking her the way she wanted to, Emma stroke at the juncture of the older woman’s thighs, catching her clit but keeping her rhythm and pressure haphazard, leaving the brunette guessing and bucking against her hand in protest and in search of more satisfying friction.

Setting the brunette down gently, Emma kissed her with everything she had. Her need for a connection, her need to drive the remnants of numbness away was so intense that her world narrowed to the sole intent of drowning in the woman in front of her. All she wanted was to hear her moans of pleasure, feel her thrashing under her fingers, taste her very essence, smell the mixture of apple and heady scent of arousal that was all Regina.

“I want to hear you come undone, Regina,” Emma rasped against her lover’s neck, sucking her earlobe into her mouth as she slipped three fingers inside, feeling the growl coming from the older woman’s throat vibrate against her chin.

"Fuck… Emma…" Regina responded, no longer refraining from moaning out loud.

Emma loved how wanton the woman was, how willing she was to give herself over to her, understanding her need to possess, to feel and be in control of something in her life for the first time since yesterday, to anchor herself to the only certainty she had left in her life: Regina loved her.

The brunette’s internal muscles tightened, gripping Emma’s fingers like a vice and raking her fingernails down Emma’s back. The blonde hissed with a mixture of pain and pleasure followed by a throaty moan at the feeling of Regina’s fingers against her own centre.

Emma drove Regina higher and higher against the glass window, her arm cramping from the intensity of her movements but unwilling to relent. She needed Regina's release more than she needed air and she let out a whimper of pleasure when Regina screamed her name, her tightening grip on the blonde's back enough to draw blood and her body sagging against Emma's. With a final shudder Emma followed her, blissfully plunging into the abyss of their shared orgasms and grateful to her lover for granting her this parenthesis in time.

Emma held Regina steady against the window, soothing her, brushing her hands over the woman's back and hips, her lips over her neck and shoulders, whispering words of comfort and love. She then bent down enough to slide her arm behind the brunette's knees and carried her to her bedroom, Regina's soft breath tickling her neck. She laid the older woman down before climbing into bed beside her, lifting the covers over their cooling bodies and pulling her almost on top of her, the weight of Regina's torso grounding her more than anything else could have done. Emotionally exhausted by the events of the last two days and lulled by the regular breathing against her chest, Emma closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.


	9. Now I'm a stranger in my own world

  
_"No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away...”_  


_Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man_

 

* * *

  

So much had happened in the last five days and yet Emma Nolan only had a sporadic recollection of anything. The numbness that had engulfed her showed little sign of abating and she had walked through it in a trance-like state.

Regina had tried relentlessly to cajole her out of her near catatonia, but Emma had not been responsive beyond that first night. She remembered her mother closing herself off, barricading her door and her heart after her father died. He was the one she had shared everything with, just as August had been with her. Love didn’t need to be romantic to hurt like a bitch.

In the rare instances where Regina had managed to drag her out of their now shared bed where she sought refuge night after night and driven her to the base, she had tried to spend some time with Ruby, she really had. The redhead’s grief was overwhelming. Witnessing it was tearing the blonde apart and it was only in her friend's shaking embrace that Emma felt anything. She felt crippling guilt. She felt unspeakable sorrow. She felt incredible weakness. She felt like running to the end of the Earth and disappearing, drowned in her bitter tears and self-loathing. She ought to be strong for August, for Ruby and yet found it an almost insurmountable task.

Clearing his locker was probably one of the hardest things Emma had ever had to do. Everywhere within its confines were mementos, clothes, trinkets that she had vivid and fond memories of. The keys to his Harley. The ratty "No strings attached" T-Shirt with his Disney alter ego on the front that Ruby had banned on sight but that August kept hidden and slept in whenever he was away from home. The notebook in which he sketched rather crude caricatures of people they met. The cowboy hat Emma had won him in that burger joint in Pensacola. She had had stomach cramps for two days after but she had completed the "Five-Pound Meatball Sub Challenge” and had proudly plunked her newly acquired prize on his head, his beaming smile the only reward she ever wanted. His dog tags. Pocketing them and reverently placing the rest of his belongings in the cardboard box she had brought with her, she wiped a stray tear and steeled herself before closing the locker door with a soft but final click.

 

\---------------------------

The lights were out in their shared apartment at the Bachelor Officers' Quarters. Knocking lightly on his bedroom door and hearing no response, Emma pulled the door as quietly as she could. Ruby had not been able to sleep despite her emotional and physical exhaustion. She was still taking a cocktail of anti-depressants and sleeping pills, and she did not want to disturb her friend if she had found some respite from her Hell, even for a few minutes.

The room was empty. Setting the box on his bed, Emma tiptoed out of the room and went searching for her friend, unsure of what she would say, what she could say but certain that whatever it was, something needed to be said.

She found her napping, almost swallowed up in a big leather armchair in the sitting room, a muted TV showing MASH re-runs. As if feeling that she was no longer alone, Ruby stirred and opened reddened and puffy eyes to take in her husband's best friend looking down at her.

Neither of them knowing how to break the unfamiliar and awkward silence that had settled over them, they stared at each other for a long moment before Ruby got up and launched herself into Emma’s arms. Knocked back a step under the redhead’s weight, Emma steadied them and immediately engulfed her friend in as tight a hug as she thought the frail-looking woman could withstand. Neither of them was faring very well but if the protruding ribs Emma could feel against her forearms were any indication, Ruby had not eaten in a while. She had always been slender but this bordered on unhealthy.

Emma swallowed the lump rising in her throat and blinked the threatening tears away before nestling her face in Ruby’s neck, her hands tracing a soothing path along her back. Ruby ran her fingers through the blonde tresses against her chest and kissed her temple before pulling away and wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

“They cleared me…. The Board of enquiry, they cleared me.” Emma started, almost choking on the words. She had not deserved it, but here it was. “They reviewed all the evidence and… They said the spin was caused by the disruption of air flow into the starboard engine, that the disruption stalled the engine and that the spin was unrecoverable. There was no way I could see or avoid the jetwash…”

Ruby ran both hands over the blonde’s face, wiping the silent tears from her cheeks before taking a firmer hold to ensure that Emma would not look away.

“He loved flying with you, Emma. This? This was his life, this was his dream with you. He would have wanted you to go on, to live that dream for the both of you.”

Emma gently gripped Ruby’s wrists before pulling her hands away and letting them fall after kissing them both. “Ruby, I don’t… I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I am strong enough.” Emma sobbed and closed her eyes, her pain too raw to keep at bay.

“Emma. Look at me. He would have flown anyway... without you. He'd have hated it, but he would have done it. If you’ve been cleared, you can fly again. You must fly again,” the redhead uttered with as much conviction as she could muster. “Promise me. Promise him that you will fly again.”

Sniffling and taking a deep breath, Emma whispered “I will. I will try. But you need to eat. And you need to sleep, Ruby.”

"I can't… I can't sleep in that room, Emma. It's just… I can't. I can't be alone, and I can't face that room where everything is just… his. Does that even make any sense?"

“Come on. Come with me.”

Emma took her friend’s hand in hers and led her out of the reception area, bypassing August’s room without a second glance and into her own room where she had spent so little time lately. She pulled the bedcovers down and patted the mattress with a small smile, encouraging Ruby to come and lie down.

Ruby hesitated for a second before asking with as small a voice as Emma had ever heard from the force of nature that was her friend "Will you… Will you stay with me?"

Emma stepped back towards Ruby and taking her hand again as she would a child, pulled Ruby towards the bed and gently sat her down before sitting on the edge of the bed with her. She pulled Ruby's exhausted body towards her and kissed her forehead before reassuring her in as strong a voice as she could. "I'll be here. I'll always be here."

 

\---------------------------

Emma wrenched her blue-starred helmet off in a fury before her jet was even fully stationary. The exercise, like they had all been for the previous six days had been a nightmare on all fronts. The whole nine days since the accident had been. Getting back up had been one of the hardest things she had done and no amount of looking at the picture of her and August, which she had pinned to the plane's console, nor the feeling of his dog tags in her breast pocket had provided any comfort.

She would never again obnoxiously yell ‘I feel the need… the need for speed!’ with him when walking to their Super Hornet before a mission. She would never feel the weight of his arm around her shoulder after a successful flight, his hand messing with her hair in celebration like the stupid and loving brother that he was.

With one last look, she snatched the printed photograph and proceeded down the ladder, ignoring the calls above her.

“Swan! Swan! Where in the Hell are you going? What happened up there?”

It was not Pinocchio’s mocking tone that was ringing in her ears, it was not the heady scent of his cologne she had smelt in the cockpit, it hadn’t been his voice encouraging her to take a shot she had no longer had any idea how to take.

Her most faithful flying companion now was a crippling fear of endangering her plane, herself, her co-pilot, drenching her T-shirt and flight suit in cold sweat before she even reached 10,000 feet.

Yes, she had been cleared by the commission. Ruby, as broken-hearted and devasted as she had been, had whispered her absolution when they had clung to each other in bed as if their sanity had depended on the other hanging on. She had even been cleared by the base’s psychologist, but guilt was a relentless traitor. It snuck up on you at the least opportune moment and despite it all, Lt Emma Nolan carried enough guilt with her to weigh her down for the rest of her life, cleared or not. Even Regina's unwavering faith and support meant little in the face of her self-loathing.

“I didn’t… It was no good…”

“It was no good?” The grey-haired man screeched, “it was no good? It was never going to get better than that!”

It was not her best friend berating her for failing to engage once again… No, that was some new RIO she had just been assigned. Cassidy. ‘Butch’. Hood’s old one. Why that was, she had no idea and did not care. He, however, sounded like he cared a lot. 

Marching ahead of him towards the locker rooms, Emma attempted to keep her temper in check. She knew in her heart of heart that it wasn’t the guy’s fault. He had no more asked to be paired up with a damaged pilot than she had asked for August to die. Her frustration was with herself, yet she was on the brink of explosion.

“Hey, Swan. We could have had him...”

That was it. The blonde stopped dead in her tracks and turned around, thrusting her helmet into the man’s chest. Butch took a step back under the force of the blow and opened his mouth. His mouth that Emma was determined to shut.

“I'll fire when I'm goddamn good and ready. You got that, Cassidy?”

Not waiting for a response from her co-pilot, Emma wrenched the door open and made a beeline for her locker. Discarding her flight suit as if she had been burnt, she changed quickly into her skinny jeans. Indiscriminately grabbing her belongings, she started throwing her stuff into her duffel, only briefly glancing up at the sound of Butch’s footsteps.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m saving them some paperwork.” Emma angrily shoved the rest of her clothes into the bag and drew the strings together tightly.

“Since when do you care about paperwork?”

Silently shouldering the bag, Emma moved towards the door, passing a stunned Butch as she went. The RIO hesitated for a moment and called out.

“You know what, Nolan? If I could fly like you, I'd have everything I want. But I can't fly. I can't fly like that. Nobody can. Whatever it is, you've got it!”

Pausing for a second and turning her head back slightly, Emma bitterly chuckled. “Not anymore.”

“So what? You’re scared? We’re all scared. You ever get a good look at me in the back seat, I'm goddamn terrified!”

Emma silently walked away, Butch's words replaying in her mind. Yes, she was petrified too, and she had no idea how to deal with this new sensation. Maybe Regina was right, maybe she had thought herself immortal, and the reality check had punched her so hard that she had been knocked out, count to 10 underway.

She had almost reached the stairs leading to the building’s lobby when a male voice called out from behind her.

“Nolan!”

Emma braced herself for the upcoming confrontation. The last person she wanted to talk to right now was Huntsman. She certainly did not need his special brand of self-satisfaction at her demise. He would not gloat, that was more Hook's style, but he would make himself look superior, and she had had enough of coming second best, even in her own estimation. She did not need a vocal or visual reminder of the facts. 

She wordlessly faced him, her face betraying nothing of the inner turmoil she was facing, hoping that the man would be quick, and she could get the fuck out of here.

“I'm sorry about Pinocchio. Everybody liked him.”

Emma nodded her head once in acknowledgment, hiding her surprise at Huntsman’s opening words. That was not what she had expected from him, that was for sure.

“I’m really sorry.” His voice almost broke.

It seemed that Huntsman was not heartless after all. If she was right, there was a hint of sadness and respect in his voice, and that comforted Emma more than she thought it would. Hers had not been the only eyes that had welled up either. She had tried to be strong. For the both of them. For her sanity, for his memory, for their shared dreams and lives. She had tried to go on without him, but the pain in her chest was debilitating. Even the rides back home on her bike left a sour taste in her mouth and her eyes cloudy with unshed tears. All these things they had shared together, she needed to learn to do alone now. Maybe one day she would enjoy them again. 

She reached for his arm and clasped it for a second before making her way out, his eyes burning a hole in her back.

 

\---------------------------

“You weren't going to say goodbye, Swan?”

Emma froze as the unexpected voice behind her covered the sound of a nearby plane taking off. She really needed to pay more attention to her surroundings. Some sharp-sensed fighter pilot she was. All she seemed to do the last few days was jump off her seat in surprise anytime someone addressed her. She hadn't expected to see anyone she knew in the airport lounge but quite clearly, her seemingly stealthy exit from the base had been noticed, and the cavalry had been called as reinforcements. It was breathtakingly beautiful reinforcements she had to admit and despite herself, Emma let a small smile creep to the corner of her lips. Regina was always a sight to behold, whether in nothing but a bikini on the side of a pool, a pencil skirt at the top of the classroom or in figure-hugging black slacks and fitted leather jacket as she was now.

“May I?” the brunette gestured towards the free stool to Emma’s right.

The blonde nodded her head in agreement and called the waitress over, thankful for the small respite Regina placing her order would afford her. She was not prepared for this conversation, and Regina was in fight mode if her attire was anything to go by.

“I heard you got that promotion. New job in Washington? Congratulations, Regina.”

An ice water set on the table, an inquisitive eyebrow raised at the duffel bag on the floor beside her and slender manicured fingers drumming an impatient beat on the counter top later, Emma was out of precious time. Regina had pointedly ignored her last sentence and was growing impatient for a plausible explanation.

“I was, later…” Emma muttered, avoiding Regina’s penetrating gaze.

“You were later? Once you had disappeared without a word?” Regina snarled. "Is that all we are worth? You were going to do this by text message? What was it going to be? ‘I'm sorry, I feel like I have failed, and the crushing weight of everyone's expectations has driven me to take the first plane out of here and run as I am prone to do? I’m going to give it all up and take up hotel management…’ You are a coward, Emma Nolan.”

“It's good to see you too, Regina.”

“Where are you going? You don't even have a ticket, do you?” Regina asked incredulously, her eyes burning with righteous anger.

At the lack of response from the blonde, she examined the woman she loved a little closer. Immediately after Pinocchio's death, Emma had been in shock. She had been lost and had buckled under the weight of her guilt. Now, she looked like someone who had lost her purpose in life. Her shoulders were hunched, her green eyes dull and lifeless and her skin grey. She looked like a shell of the woman Regina had fallen in love and it broke her heart. She reached forward and took Emma's cold hand in hers, begging for the blonde to look at her.

“I've seen all the evidence, Emma. It's not your responsibility. It's not your fault. You're one of the best pilots in the Navy. What you do up there... It's dangerous. But you've got to go on.”

“You don't understand.” Emma protested.

“When I first met you, you were larger than life. Look at you.”

“No, that's over. It's just over,” Emma replied dejectedly and shook her head.

“To be the best of the best means you make mistakes, and then you go on.” Regina cupped Emma’s chin and ran her thumb behind the blonde’s earlobe in a comforting gesture.

“You don't think I know that?”

Regina bit back a snarky remark at Emma’s harsh tone. She took a deep breath and tried again.

“I'm here to help.”

“Look, thank you. Really, Regina. But I’m not sure you can.”

“You just don’t want me to.” Regina countered harshly. “You’re more comfortable wallowing and running, aren’t you? I'm too late. You've already left. You didn't learn a damn thing, did you? Except to quit. You've got that manoeuvre down. Congratulations, dear.”

Regina reluctantly let Emma’s hand go and got up, laying a few dollar bills out for the drinks.

“So long, Sailor.”

With a final trail of her hand over Emma's familiar leather jacket, Regina turned away and left the bar, Emma’s eyes burning a hole her back. Had the blonde called out or followed, Regina would have swung back and ran into her arms, promising that everything would work out but the deafening silence was the final proof that Emma had given up on everything and Regina had never felt as powerless in her life.

 

\---------------------------

In the end, Emma had not been able to go through with it. She had stayed there, sipping seemingly gallons of water, watching countless planes take off and landing. As daylight dimmed and the constant coming and going of aircraft had almost come to a standstill, and no calls, no text messages came from Regina, Emma had picked up her keys and phone from the counter, taken her bag and left the terminal building. She had spent most of her afternoon of sober introspection watching people. People rushing to hug each other, some carrying banners and balloons, children being picked up and kissed to within an inch of their lives. People clinging to each other tightly, wiping stray tears, dragging their feet and turning around, waving again and again until they disappeared behind the security scanning area. 

It wasn't necessarily the reason she had stayed but witnessing these scenes had given the blonde a different perspective. She wore her sorrow like a second skin; her guilt consumed her from the inside, and if she were honest with herself, she had been selfish in her grief. Loss, sadness was everywhere around her. Her world may have stopped for a while but the world at large didn't. She had had trouble being cognizant of other's pain, of Ruby's. She had failed to understand the consequences of her actions or lack thereof on the people around her. Maybe it was time for a reality check.

She was tired of running. She had promised Ruby, she had promised August that no matter what, she would try, she would go on. Maybe she hadn't tried hard enough. That was certainly what Regina thought, and perhaps she was right. The brunette had been nothing but supportive and loving, and all Emma had been able to do was take the offered comfort and throw it back in her face when things got too much. Regina certainly deserved better and a couple of days ago, what Emma believed that meant was that Regina deserved better than Emma. Maybe that was the wrong assumption. Maybe what Regina deserved was a better Emma. What Emma deserved was a better Emma. 

This is how the blonde found herself - after yet another sleepless night - on a sunny Sunday morning knocking on Commander John McKellen’s door. The man had been hard on her though in retrospect neither harder than she deserved nor harder than on anybody else but he had also been kind and she had taken his words to heart. She sought answers and perhaps he was the man to provide them.

“Hi there,” a tiny short-haired woman greeted with a friendly smile, still wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “Can I help you?”

“I was hoping to…” Emma uncomfortably shuffled from one foot to the other, already regretting her decision to come.

“Swan? Is everything ok?” Gandalf suddenly appeared before Emma could finish her sentence.”

"I'm really sorry to disturb you at the weekend, Sir but I was, huh… I was hoping to talk to you."

“Of course… Please come in,” Gandalf offered and stepped aside before leading Emma to the deck at the back of the house, tastefully furnished with wicker armchairs and an impressive number of cushions. “Can I get you a coffee, tea?”

"A coffee would be great, thank you. Black. I don't want to impose, though…"

“Nonsense. I will be back in a minute. Please, sit.”

Emma sunk into a rocking chair and pushed herself back with her foot, the slow motion almost hypnotizing and she closed her eyes for a second, enjoying the heat of the sun on her face.

“I flew with your old man, you know. VF-103, the Saratoga. You're a lot like he was. Only better... and worse.”

Gandalf handed her a steaming mug before settling in an armchair across from her and taking a sip out of his own.

Emma’s interest was piqued, yet she let out an incredulous laugh. “I doubt I am anything like him.” 

“He was a natural heroic son of a bitch. That doesn’t ring a bell… Savior?”

"So… He did do it right…" Emma's voice had never been as small, as wavering at it was now. She wanted nothing more than to believe that the hero that had lived in her memory was the real Charming, not the screw up he had been reported to be, not the screw up whose ghost had been haunting her for twenty years.

McKellen’s eyes softened. “Yeah, he did it right. Is that why you fly the way you do? Trying to prove something?”

At Emma's non-committal shrug and downcast eyes, the older man abruptly stood up and placed his mug on the coffee table. Taking in the sunken cheeks, tired but hopeful eyes and pursed lips in front of him, he came to a difficult decision.

"Yeah, your old man did it right. What I'm about to tell you is classified. It could end my career. It was the first few days of the operation. We were in the worst dogfight ever.  
Bandits like fireflies all over the sky. His F-14 was hit, he was wounded, but he stayed. Saved three planes before he bought it." 

Emma was stunned. This was not what she had expected. She didn’t know what she had expected; she had played so many scenarios in her head from the age of eight that they were all a blur. All of them pure fabrications of a child unwilling to believe that her father had made a mistake, had been too careless, had not cared enough about his family to want to see them again. She knew her father’s absence had caused her to create this construct of a knight in shining armor, had put him on a pedestal. It was only as she had grown up that she had realized any of this, that she had no idea whether her dad was deserving of that pedestal, whether he was deserving of his name being cleared, even if it was only in private. She was glad he was.

“How come I never heard that before?” she enquired almost inaudibly.

“Not something the State Department tells dependents when the battle occurred over the wrong line on some map…”

Emma swallowed hard, her jaw tightening reflexively. All this time… What a fucking waste. Her mother's grief, the whispers behind her back, the isolation. The shame. All for nothing. Her father had lost his life but saved others. Her mom would have liked to know.

Gandalf’s warm voice pulled her back to reality. “What's on your mind?”

Emma cleared her throat and washed the rising bile back down with a mouthful of now tepid coffee. “My options, sir.”

The grey-haired man considered her carefully and sat back in his chair, elbows resting on its arms. “It’s simple. You've acquired enough points to show up tomorrow and graduate with your class. Or you can quit. We can send you back to your squadron with nothing noted on your record except "CNC" --course not completed, no explanation required. There'll be no disgrace. That spin was hell. It would have shaken me up.”

“How can I go on? I feel so... responsible,” Emma muttered despondently.

Gandalf sighed and looked Emma straight in the eye, his steely blue eyes striking the blonde’s core. 

“Kid, the plain fact is... you are. You feel responsible for Pinocchio, and you have a confidence problem. I'm not gonna stand here and blow sunshine up your ass. You and I know what really happened. But a good pilot is compelled to evaluate what's happened and apply what they’ve learned. What you learned isn't worth his death. It couldn't be. But maybe there is some value in it and it’s up to you to find it. But I have responsibility for the other guys up there, not just you. They need to know you're all right...that they can depend on you. There are your options, Lieutenant. All yours.”

Emma nodded her understanding and got up to take her leave before she got overwhelmed again by what she had learned today and the magnitude of the decision she had to make in such a short period of time. She zipped her leather jacket, burrowing into its collar, the familiarity of it grounding her.

“Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, sir. Thank you for your time.” She shook his hand and received a small, almost affectionate smile in return.

“No problem. Good luck.”

Emma's mind was reeling, and there was only one thing, one person who could harness the inner storm raging inside. For the first time in two weeks, she purposefully made her way towards her motorbike. She had a plan, and it involved losing herself in the wind and speed and if the brunette was still willing to talk to her, a long chat with Regina.


	10. Could you be the dream that I once knew

  


وطن المرء ليس مكان ولادته و لكنه المكان الذي تنتهي فيه كل محاولاته للهروب

 _“Home is not where you were born; home is where all your attempts to escape cease.”_  


_Naguib Mahfouz_

 

* * *

  

Twenty-four hours later, Emma found herself once more in very familiar territory, namely the pilots' briefing room aboard the USS Ronald Reagan.

She had eventually gathered her strength and turned up at the end of the graduation ceremony, forced smile and congratulatory words she almost choked on painted on her lips. Although Huntsman was rather magnanimous in victory, Hook was unbearable and obnoxiously paraded the trophy, showing off to any woman who was unfortunate enough to come within striking distance. 

When she had turned up at 108 Mifflin Street the day before, the Mercedes was gone and all the curtains had been drawn. She had waited outside Regina's house all afternoon, to no avail. In the end, it looked like Regina had left her behind too and gone to Washington. Maybe she was unfair to her. After all, they had last talked in an airport bar, and Regina had no reason to believe she hadn't stepped onto the next plane out of Nevada but it hurt nonetheless. Nobody said it had to be rational.

Gandalf’s interruption had been unexpected but welcome. What she also had not expected was to be getting her orders so soon, nor for them to involve her immediate return to the Persian Gulf alongside Huntsman, the Hoos and Butch.

Wookiee's welcome had been as gruff as his manners were but Emma had caught the small nod of sympathy and encouragement he directed her way, and it had warmed her heart a little more than she thought it would.

She wasn't quite sure what she was doing there if she was completely honest. It seemed that despite it all, despite her previous devil-may-care attitude and disciplinary record, despite her latest misgivings and dismal personal life, someone was willing to trust her. Gandalf. Wookiee. Both had been formative figures in the last few months, maybe subconsciously filling parts of the void her father had left. He had joined the Navy out of a sense of duty and to a certain extent, so had she. Perhaps initially out of a sense of duty to her name, to HIS name but serving had become an integral part of who she had been, of the adventure she and August had embarked so many years ago. Maybe it was time she regained some of that pride, justified that trust to herself and proved none of it was misplaced.

Clutching August's dog tags in her fist, she turned her attention to the ship's Commander wiping his brow at the top of the room. They apparently had not found a way to fix the air conditioning yet.

It all sounded simple. The SS Layton had become disabled and had wandered into foreign territory. Their orders were to return fire, should they witness any MiG hostile acts in the area. This was the real thing, what they’d been trained for. Huntsman and Hook, Hood and Chicago would front the air support mission for a rescue operation at sea. She and Butch would provide back-up if and when required. For the time being, they were to stay on the Catapult on ready alert.

Neither Huntsman nor Hook had been happy with the arrangement and Humbert, still running high on his first place, had caught Wookie as he was leaving the room to express his objection to her involvement. Wookiee had told him to shove it and that small act alone helped to settle Emma's confidence somewhat.

Despite the comforting feel of the tags she had not let go of, the following fifteen minutes were a nasty cocktail of nerves fueled by the nail-biting wait while Emma and Neal settled into their cockpit, the increasingly worried voices from the two pairs in the air and the unbearable heat under Emma’s helmet. She was going to throw up any second if she didn’t get a better grip on her emotions. 

What had started as a potential confrontation with two MiGs quickly turned into four then five enemy dots on the radar and tensions rising exponentially. Mayday calls soon sounded, Hood and Chicago had been hit and had to eject. Order for them and a rescue helicopter to launch immediately followed. That was it, they were up. Emma slipped August's tags back into her breast pocket and signaling her readiness to the Landing Signal Officer, her jet was fired off the deck and rocketed into the sky.

Within seconds, they were airborne and on the way to joining the fight. Emma's stomach had settled real high in her throat and would not be dislodged for love nor money. Swan was thirty seconds away and five bandits were on Huntsman's tail. He was in trouble. No further support would be provided, it would all be over by the time anybody else could be sent. Huntsman narrowly avoided a missile thanks to a good eye from Hook and some impressive aerial acrobatics but the situation was unsustainable. Just as Emma finally reached him – supersonic speed had never felt as slow – Huntsman was begging for her to engage and help him out.

That’s when it all really went to shit. At Butch’s shout that there was a sixth MiG, right on her tail, Emma turned around and a second later, she had flown right through the jetwash of a second one. The beeping sound, the plane spinning… It was all too close, still too fresh in her memory and although she eventually managed to stabilize the jet, Emma lost it. She had to disengage. It was no good. They were wrong. They were all wrong. She could not do this. Not now, maybe never. Their trust? All misplaced. 

Butch's frantic calls to re-engage were nothing but white noise and Emma closed her eyes for a second. She allowed herself a moment of self-pity before all her promises to try came rushing back to her. Maybe she should have quit but there was a reason she didn't get on the first plane out of Nevada after her last conversation with Regina. There was a reason she came back to graduate after her talk with Gandalf. There was a reason Ruby's words echoed in her head. Regina had believed in her, had asked her not to live in her father's shadow. She could not have left his behind just to start living in August's.

Reaching into her pocket and pulling the tags out, Emma ran her fingers over August Booth's indented name in a gesture that had become her source of comfort and grounding. She tightened her fist to the point of pain, the steel digging into her palm despite the plastic ring around them. He would have hated it, yes. But he would have done it. There were no two ways about it: if she didn't get back in they were all dead. Emma banked right and dove back in.

Five minutes later and it was a somewhat different ballgame. Between them, Huntsman and Swan had managed to eliminate two of the MiG, but the remaining three were engaged in a three-dimensional dance they were finding hard to keep up with when suddenly Butch shouted that a fourth bandit was coming up on their tail and was lining them up. Huntsman was being fired upon from the right, cannon fire blazing and hitting his engine dead on. Emma was forced into a split second decision: break off and try to shake the MiG on her tail or stay and support Huntsman, who was now running on a single engine and being chased by a third bandit. She was not going to leave her wingman.

Tuning out Butch's pleas to get out of there, Emma took control of the situation and ordered Huntsman to break hard right and fired, hitting the target. She still had one on her ass though and she narrowly avoided cannon shots directed at her. Her instincts taking over, Emma slowed the plane down. "I'm bringing him in closer. I'll hit the brakes. He'll fly right by us." Butch's incredulous cries fell on deaf ears and soon, the MiG was indeed flying right underneath them, lining up perfectly for her to take a shot. Bullseye. Now two against two and their prospects not looking too well, the remaining MiGs bugged out and excited shouts sounded over the comms at the news.

Emma took a big gulp of air and sighed in relief. Fuck, that had been close. Adrenaline pumping through her veins like never before, she led both planes back to the aircraft carrier. The mischief barely concealed in her voice, she addressed the Primary Flight Control Bridge.

“Mustang, this is Swan, requesting fly-by for two.”

"Negative, the pattern is full" the air boss replied with the hint of a smile, taking a sip of his much-deserved coffee.

Emma exploded in peals of laughter. They had danced this particular dance before and it was time for one more for old times sake. Air Boss Johnston placed his cup back on his desk. Better safe than sorry with that goddamn woman.

\------------------

Climbing out of their cockpits, all four pilots were grabbed and hugged and lifted and for once, Emma didn’t mind the physical contact nor the display of testosterone that much. Adrenaline was a powerful drug.

Hood and Chicago's still soaking wet faces and flight suits after having been airlifted from the water were the first one she recognized once her feet were back on the ground and they threw themselves at each other, the exhilaration threatening to overtake them all. Nothing like fire to forge relationships. Even Huntsman gave into a rare moment of sentimentality, pointing at Emma.

“YOU! You’re still dangerous… but you can be my wingman anytime.”

Emma told him to fuck off, he could be hers… and hugged him regardless.

\------------------

Once the commotion had died down and Emma had finally been left alone in the locker room, she sat down with her head in between her knees, deeply breathing in and out to slow her heart rate down yet she could not keep the wide and disbelieving grin off her face.

This is how a euphoric Wookiee eventually found her, his booming voice echoing in the narrow room.

“Can you believe this shit, Swan? After a stunt like this, the sky is the limit. You name it. A medal. Anything you want. Anything. The other side denies the incident, but that means fuck all. Congratulations.” The CO shook her hand, beaming smile firmly in place. “They gave you your choice of duty. Where do you think you want to go?”

“Thank you, Sir. I… I thought of being an instructor, Sir.”

“Top Gun? God help us. At least, you’ll be out of my hair, I guess.”

Emma bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing. She didn't miss the glint in Caulfield's eye. There hadn't been any hair on Wookiee's head for decades. The man had a sense of humor after all.

“Yes, Sir.”

 

* * *

  

Two weeks later, Emma Nolan was sitting at the counter of the Rabbit Hole, mindlessly sipping a cold beer. She had arrived back three days earlier and was enjoying the calm before the storm. Her request to be posted back in Fallon had been granted and against all odds, she now found herself the newest flight instructor on base. Walking into the BOQ again had been strange. Thankfully, her new lodgings were situated relatively far from where she and Pinocchio had stayed, which had softened the emotional onslaught somewhat. Regardless, Emma was looking forward to going house-hunting off base. For a new start, she needed a new living environment. Maybe somewhere out in the desert.

Once the sense of euphoria she had felt back on the USS Ronald Reagan had subsided, once she had found herself alone in her quarters, she had seriously questioned her decision. She had always been impulsive, sometimes rash and August had always been there to rein her in, thrashing out plans and ideas until he was satisfied that Emma was sure she knew what she was doing. Then it had been Regina. The older woman had become her pillar of strength, accepting, challenging her at every turn and loving her. In the end, Emma had not been ready. Not after August. But now?

She had wondered if this was the right thing for her, if her desire for revenge over fate was not driving her back to a place, a situation, memories that would overwhelm her in the end. She had wondered if this was not too much, too soon. She had fallen in love here, found a piece of herself she did not dream she would ever find, a relative peace of mind. Yet, Fallon would always be the place where she had faced the biggest upheaval in her adult life. Would this new phase in her life really help her move on? Was it reasonable for her to be retracing alone the steps she and August had taken together? In her efforts to prove to herself that she was not a runner anymore, had she taken things too far the other way?

The bar was quiet, the only other customers a young couple paying more attention to each other than anything happening around them. The barman approached her to check if Emma needed anything else and at the blonde’s nod pulled a bottle of Budweiser out of the fridge before uncapping it and placing it in front of her.

Emma thanked him with a smile and brought it to her parched lips, her eyes drifting back to the newspaper she had been skimming.

She was engrossed in an article about the latest global warming talks when her ears perked up at a familiar sound.

 _You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips_  
_And there's no tenderness like before in your fingertips_  
_You're trying hard not to show it_

Startled, Emma deliberately put down her beer and got up from the stool she was perched on. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary as she scanned the room and she shook her head, willing her heart rate to slow down. The loved-up couple must be Righteous Brothers fans, there was just no other explanation. Maybe there was one, but it was so unfathomable that…

“Hello, Emma Nolan.”

She would recognize that sultry voice anywhere. Her heart skipped a beat every time she heard it and Emma closed her eyes, a smile threatening to break on her lips. She turned towards the voice, conflicting emotions warring in her mind. The dread of opening her eyes and having all her hopes dashed was overwhelming her, a sense of panic seeping into her bones when the voice resounded again.

“I heard the best of the best were coming be back here, so...”

Emma’s smile went from tentative to breathtaking as she opened her bright green eyes and took in the tailored suit clad brunette in front of her, arms crossed over her chest and hip cocked against the doorway. Her hair was slightly longer than the last time she had seen her and the kink in the dark tresses added to her beauty. Regina was never as gorgeous as she was now standing in front of her, as vulnerable and uncertain of what to say as Emma had ever seen her. Regina was here.

“Are you back too?”

So many questions were spinning around her head making her dizzy. What had happened to Washington? Did Regina come back because of her? Did she manage to get a transfer back here, even with her promotion? Did she give up her promotion? They could address all this later, the only thing that mattered right now was that Regina was looking at her, a tentative smile on her lips and a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

It was as if Regina had read her mind. “I live here Lieutenant… Just because I got the job doesn't mean that I took it. It was always more my mother's dream than mine to climb up the ladder of power. I'm in it mostly for the science… Call me a hopeless romantic, Savior, but I was hoping that our paths may cross again.”

Emma cleared her throat and hesitantly approached the older woman, her hand extended towards her. Regina did not hesitate and took it, entwining their fingers together and pulling the blonde into her. Emma reacted immediately and slid her free arm around the brunette’s waist, closing the distance between them to nothing.

“This could be complicated. You know… on the first one, I crashed and burned.”

Regina ran her hand over the blonde’s forehead, pushing a stray strand of hair out of the way and staring into sparkling green eyes she raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“And the second?”

“I don't know,” Emma leaned forward. She nuzzled the older woman’s skin, a mere breath separating their lips, “but it's looking good so far.”

 

 

* * *

##### Sin é!

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations for making it this far, I hope you enjoyed the ride.  
> On a scale of Jar Jar Binks to General Leia Organa, do not hesitate to let me know how little / much, either in the comments below or at http://atomicsky77.tumblr.com


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